The landscape turns beauty into a dying beast
It howls at the open mouths of seas
The keystone in an old archway
Crumbles as we speak
And there’s a big house on the top of the hill
That looks smaller up close
And the windows look unfinished
Because they have no frames
And we watch the stars as they are wishing that they could move as far
As we’d like to think
And the grass stretches out in front of us
And we feel as though we are intruders
We should be watching from behind curtains
The beauty is far too much for humans
To be at one with or to touch
The flowers know our plans
They are torn with greedy hands so they withstand the wind and rain but to passers by they just curl up
And so the outsides fade
Into a paler life-like shade
Shall we take it?
Take the fields into our pockets?
For they are deep enough to fill
Take the world apart to see what it is made of
Then write it up in a report
Then wonder what we did it for
The soil grows impatient
At the feet that it supports
The world turns in its grave
With every breaking dawn
Awakens from the day before
Every tree and field taken
Is one too many gone
Every creature of our land deleted
Every person that will do this
Is one too many
Every building that blocks the sky at right-angles
Every road built grey on green
Is one too many
And we are on the path to more
We must change the scene
We must change what humans we are being
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