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