There were two dustbin bags,

Down our street floating free.

One seemingly hiding behind,

The other was round at the front.

Waiting for his friend;

At the sycamore tree.

Then the perspective of it hit me,

Like a wave from the sea.

Is not as though I'm ranting,

It matters where you are standing.

To whether it's the front or the back,

The sides started laughing at me.

After all it doesn't matter,

Which is the front or the back. 

It's only a sycamore tree:

So I asked my god which way it would be,

That's easy he said the front is the front

The back is the back the sides follow that

At the end of the day it's only a tree

Surely god with thoughts if you can stand

Does the front face The land 

The back face the sea as you made a man 

God I demand you find an answer for me 

God found the answer to his problem you see

The clouds opened up downwards

 A light on the man from heaven it shone

With a wave of his hand mankind was gone

After all thought God a tree is a tree

Which way that it stands doesn't

Matter to me. After all

It was only a sycamore tree.