It has been stepped ,
It was my glorious green,
the living dead of that plain scheme,
The apple of my eyes,
The glorious green.
Tell them not to hurt,
Tell them not to touch,
Tell them not to destroy,
For this is the love that gives me life.
The wind was its brother,
And Sun was his mother,
Water was his Father,
While I was his lover,
They came to destroy you,
to destroy us,
What should I do?
For I have nothing but a piece of pow.
You've changed, and I have missed
The day that you're green,
The apple of my eye,
Was dying in pain.
