the last bird from a scattered flock

seeks shelter in a tree

alone amongst the lonely woods

he will cry when noone hears

he will fall when noone cares

palls of grief hanging in the clouds

what must go wrong, so that we see

there's not enough to make us stop



we are the devils of a dying land

what evil spirit holds us here

we wear a careless mask

making friends with death

we are devils of a dying land



mankind took all nature's pride

mercy out of sight

demons dark around us swarm

forests' last time

the short last sound of singing birds

we don't know what it means

will we ever know?



a world where iron shells

can kill men's blood

a world of emptiness,

a dying land