I'm scared, said the earth to the moon,
I think I'm going to die very soon.
There's a constant haze in my blue sky
And that's what happens before you die.

The air has become so stale
That it's difficult to inhale.
The pollution makes it heavy and thick
And I'm beginning to feel quite sick.

They're razing the forests, hundreds a day,
And the rivers and seas are full of decay.
How can they expect their children to endure
When they've sentenced me to a death so premature.

Suffocation is imminent, I'm afraid,
The oxygen supply is going to fade
Without the trees to replenish the air.
My demise is certain, does no one care?

How sad.  Never again to feel the breeze,
Or watch the rain, or touch the cool seas,
Or smell a flower, or welcome a new spring,
Or see a green field, or hear a human being.