The wind is blowing something fierce
I hear it’s deafening cry;
As if in pain it stopped
To mourn and ask us why.
We’re cutting down the forrest
At such an alarming rate;
The lands that once were large and vast
Have begun to dissipate.
The floods are raging wild
With no trees to stop their flow;
With all the mistakes
That we have made
You should think we’d know.