Let me come back,
Very much I know my own track.
Just give me my land back.
Wood-made house and old hills track.
My beautiful forest with textured leaves,
Wonderful mountains with scary cliffs.
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Where are those seasons’ rain?
Droops in the skin and feels at the vein.
Vally greenfields Where the buffalo roam,
Beautiful sea weaves are making foams.
Crops dancing in the fields,
Winds are free and don’t make shields.
Summer trees shoring creaking sounds,
Birds are free and nobody brings them down.
Dawn and dusk have beautiful breezes,
and childhood memory with the old oak trees.
Rivers are clean, wide, and narrow.
Village Road has no marking arrows.
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You really don’t care about us,
Living in the concrete with no nature can touch.
The reason we have lost our trust,
Just give us back our land & you must.
Making our way with full of thrown,
Let me go back again, to where I was born.
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 1:06 AM UTC
Let me come back,
Very much I know my own track.
Just give me my land back.
Wood-made house and old hills track.
My beautiful forest with textured leaves,
Wonderful mountains with scary cliffs.
Press enter or click to view image in full size
Where are those seasons’ rain?
Droops in the skin and feels at the vein.
Vally greenfields Where the buffalo roam,
Beautiful sea weaves are making foams.
Crops dancing in the fields,
Winds are free and don’t make shields.
Summer trees shoring creaking sounds,
Birds are free and nobody brings them down.
Dawn and dusk have beautiful breezes,
and childhood memory with the old oak trees.
Rivers are clean, wide, and narrow.
Village Road has no marking arrows.
Press enter or click to view image in full size
You really don’t care about us,
Living in the concrete with no nature can touch.
The reason we have lost our trust,
Just give us back our land & you must.
Making our way with full of thrown,
Let me go back again, to where I was born.
