Oh, Man, of mighty merit,
I watch your gardens grow.
With trees so high to touch my sky;
And roots so deep within my flesh.
You cover my face in roads and cities
Replaced my forests for concrete jungles
Is my beauty dead to you?
I must have withered in my old age.
Gone are the smiling days together.
Of harmony, peace; beyond all measure
It is unfair that you would be my demise
Betraying our forever for fruitless pleasure
Perhaps you forget my wrath, my power, my might.
Or my love through seasons, day and night.
Is your Mother forgotten in her glory and fame?
Do you even... Know my name?
