Tree of green become full grown,
Men of brown chop them down,
The natural balance of the earth,
Disturbed and thrown into a dearth.
Seas rise continents shrink,
Don't they know ? we're on the brink
Not today or not the morrow,
Our children and theirs will know the sorrow.
Animals only left in books,
Barren lands where no eyes will look,
Trees of green and skies of blue,
Who will explain for all the devastation left in lieu.
Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 8:46 AM UTC
Tree of green become full grown,
Men of brown chop them down,
The natural balance of the earth,
Disturbed and thrown into a dearth.
Seas rise continents shrink,
Don't they know ? we're on the brink
Not today or not the morrow,
Our children and theirs will know the sorrow.
Animals only left in books,
Barren lands where no eyes will look,
Trees of green and skies of blue,
Who will explain for all the devastation left in lieu.