the last bird from a scattered flock seeks shelter in a tree alone amongst the lonely woods he will cry when noone hears he will fall when noone cares palls of grief hanging in the clouds what must go wrong, so that we see there's not enough to make us stop we are the devils of a dying land what evil spirit holds us here we wear a careless mask making friends with death we are devils of a dying land mankind took all nature's pride mercy out of sight demons dark around us swarm forests' last time the short last sound of singing birds we don't know what it means will we ever know? a world where iron shells can kill men's blood a world of emptiness, a dying land
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