Days to life in prison for living a lie

 From dry crops I promise to sprout again hidden forever hidden behind the ecological trees for the cultivation of unlimited time and then always the forced days of perpetual condemnation for the lived lie fleetingly hidden has us in memory of the accounting number of those hands we are who they were care granting a priceless debt of love for much devotion self-denial without rhyme or reason delivered in the deaf ignorance in which we are