Woe is natures peace in quiet respite
When confronted with the haste of man's despotic despite
She mourns and screams as her majestic memories
Are burned, cut, and cast into tyrannical histories
That honor folly over beauty
And ****** over purity
Leading her tears to bore holes where life once thrived
Foreign to all who sit content and watch her die
So that ignorant men can suckle at her bountiful ****
Yet are conveniently to arrogant to bow at her feet
Till the day comes and her gift is never more
Barren are the days that is their reward
Then the sun will set and man will discover
The earth as their home and nature is their mother