This is the start but where is the ending? Do we still have means to pretend? Creation shouting praise for the keeper Glory to the son of a man
The shovel has let our Mother's blood Ingredient of life has been peeled off Slowly the land withers away Disappears into thin air
I'm standing at the age of the blackened swamp I can't hear the crane's horn or the black grouse bowline The treadmill rotates But only in one direction In the shade of the plant The contractor smiles
Seventh Swamphony Mother's tears have dried Deadly way to live Work has been done
Wounded land full of ditches Excavated upside down Every day he keeps on rooting Glory to the son of a man
Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the land
I'm standing at the age of the blackened swamp I can't hear the crane's horn or the black grouse bowline The treadmill rotates But only in one direction In the shade of the plant The contractor smiles
Seventh Swamphony Mother's tears have dried Deadly way to live Work has been done
Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the landTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
