What hath we done?
What time do we live in?
Feeding off horrors and faking laughters

We stead on the land, the land of the dead
The land enriched with their moisture, we harvest our food

We nurture our little ones with apples,
The apple tree grown from the little boy shot in the war

The final will of inheritance brings smile to our hearts
Still, we cry at the old man's funeral

What hath we done to live in this world?
What time do we live in?

This world, a burial ground.