I walked in the deep forest today,

I could hear the trees crying, whispering out to me,

they can love power all they wish,

and make all of the money there is,

but now, they have turned our

living bodies, into a funeral pyre,

which will light up the sky,

with out pain and sorrow,

they will draw the wrath of

Mother Earth,

with their greed and anger,

those heartless men in Washington,

how much money do they need?

they have turned their backs on life,

our cries rise from the tangled web of

rage and blindness,

we scream from the bowels

of infinite existence.

Love is the burning pyre,

from which the heart must

turn to stone,

and lay its body down.

We will weep until we wither..