Seventh Swamphony

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 Mother's tears have dried Deadly way to live Work has been done 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 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 Mother's tears have dried Deadly way to live Work has been done Mother's tears have dried Deadly way to live Work has been done Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the land Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the land