Timbersaw: A Chant

I can't go mid no more.
There's a tree by the tower
with a quelling blade
denying a siege creep

But

I've pinged him to my team
and the roamers are all lined up
in the river, bloody in the glow
of the haste rune up top

He knows that if I die
(or even drop out of sight)
the roamers gank and everyone knows
the trees are in the Radiant

500 branches bought from
500 couriers each one different
and 500 bloodstones
with 500 charges in every one.

I am prepared.

I can see him from up here.
His quelling blade winks from just
above his runestone collar
and somewhere there's the prophet on a clifftop
farming a Hand of Midas and thinking my name.

Trees have discussed me in dark woods.
If teamspeak rings there's only a dead breath.
In the base across the river a keenfolk
rifle has changed hands in the fountain.
Each bullet has my name on it.
My name is written in tree bark
and looked up by the silent killers.

My support's been investigated;
thank God he's afk.

They have blood samples
and examine the win rates of ET’s
and use of clarities.

My brother was with them, did I tell you?
His wife was a gardener and he
kept asking me to fill out forms.
I have it in my diary.
Listen--
listen
do listen:
you must listen.

In the rain, at the bot lane.
shadowed carries with black weapons
pretend to look at their creep score, but
game's not begun. Their eyes are blank purple.
Some are feeders in the pay of 4chan
most are the foreigners who pour through
our servers. I fooled them
logged off Steam at 1 AM
as a Weaver watched me over his creep wave.

In the forest above me an Enchantress
has put a sentry ward on the cliff
It sends out rays through its blank eyes
and now I write in the dark
by the ancient’s glow.
I tell you I know.

They sent me a donkey with grey fur
and a radio cobweb in its nose.
I sliced it into bits and wrote it up
in folder GAMMA.

I don't look in the stash anymore.
The sentry wards are techie-bombs.

(Step away! Goddam you!
Step away. I have pure damage!
I tell you I have lots of pure damage!)

The fountain is laid with talking floors
and the support says it was tangoes but I know arsenic
when it's put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard
to mask the bitter orbs of venom.

I have seen strange fights in the jungle.
Last night a dark man with no face crawled through nine miles
of river to surface in top lane, searching
for free kills through the treeline with
hidden ears.
I tell you, man, I hear.

I saw his bloody handprints
on the tower.

I don't answer teamspeak now,
have I told you that?

They are planning to flood the game with trees.
They are planning gardens

They have got magicians
advocating weird lane positions.
They are making addictive Aegises
and clarities that burn.
They know how to put down Roshan
with bearskin.

I pack myself in steel--have I told you that?
It obviates their searching roots.

I use chains and I wear saws.
You may think you have me but I can destroy you
any second now.

Any second now.

Any second now.

Would you like some tangoes, my love?

Did I tell you I can't go mid no more?
There's a tree by the tower
with a quelling blade