'Now they've come to cut you down'--the anonymous 'they,' from the 'hustling town,' now encroaching on the 'forest and the evergreens' from which they've severed themselves and no longer understand or respect, to the extent that they can casually 'burn the leaves.'
The artist desires a return to 'days we held the same;' i.e., the good old days when he and his young friends saw eye to eye and understood each other. At first he sounds bravely confident he isn't simply indulging in nostalgia: 'The forest and the evergreens are coming to take me back.' But he knows better, and the lyric quickly becomes a plea: 'Please take me back'--I'm begging you.
'Now they've come to lay the road,' and there's no stopping them. The final line is a plea, too: 'Don't lay the road;' i.e., don't go in that direction. You're heading completely the wrong way, not back to nature but ahead to a desolate future in which even the 'king of trees' can be cut down, sacrificed to a road to nowhere. It's a hopeless cry of despair.
'Now they've come to cut you down'--the anonymous 'they,' from the 'hustling town,' now encroaching on the 'forest and the evergreens' from which they've severed themselves and no longer understand or respect, to the extent that they can casually 'burn the leaves.'
The artist desires a return to 'days we held the same;' i.e., the good old days when he and his young friends saw eye to eye and understood each other. At first he sounds bravely confident he isn't simply indulging in nostalgia: 'The forest and the evergreens are coming to take me back.' But he knows better, and the lyric quickly becomes a plea: 'Please take me back'--I'm begging you.
'Now they've come to lay the road,' and there's no stopping them. The final line is a plea, too: 'Don't lay the road;' i.e., don't go in that direction. You're heading completely the wrong way, not back to nature but ahead to a desolate future in which even the 'king of trees' can be cut down, sacrificed to a road to nowhere. It's a hopeless cry of despair.