thousands of burning specs on this earth
with it's beauty so deep
it makes the cold hearted weep
rolling fields of green, splashed with purple tints of a delicate flower
the rivers roar a mighty song
As the water flows between the jagged rocks
A gasp of air reveals a new born life
an undescribable scent rolls on through the atmosphere
Running through the fields of clover
You know what our world is made of
Its the peice of art all painters strive for
Its our home
were all we've ever come to know or seem to know exists
and now it's gone to waste
Human ignorence will tear it up
for stone, and brick, and hate
so with our world in such a state
don't cry yourself to sleep
just lye in the meadow
feel the breeze wisp by
and know we are the last one's left.