When I wake up
I need there to be news
I need to know that what I’m reading
Is new to others and
Not just the personal failing
Of me falling behind the
Times.

Paper from pulp
From aphonic forests
Where machinery roars no warning
Where what falling timber doesn’t kill
Deforestation will leave lifeless

That’s not news to us though
As old papers burn for kindling
As we in the serenity of a stand of trees
Try to get away from
The newsroom blues and
The constant buzz.

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