Father, Father, where have you gone?
Where are your arms where we belong?
How far from these banks we’ve known
have you moved your kingdom’s throne?
Have you found another home?
Did you forget your children doomed to roam?
Is the family whole again?
New children where we should’ve been.
Father, Father, we’ve flown so far,
with neither guiding sun nor evening star.
Where did they go, where are our people?
We’ve lost a forest to gain a steeple.
We’ve knocked atop the hollow hills,
but could only hear the sound of mills.
Tell us if you slumber deep,
or if you’ve found a better sleep.
Father, Father, who are these men?
They dump waste into the river bend.
They say our people don’t exist,
but we see the faces in the mist.
We’ll sing one last haunting tune,
on tranquil waters ‘neath beaming moon.
We’ll sing goodbye to the world we knew
and go to die and be with you.