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 land