There's nothing left,
But the dreams of yesterday.
And I bow my head.
And I bow my head.
For the landscape lies dead,
And the trees and rocks and mountains decay.
The sky is just black,
In the dreams of tomorrow.
And I shake my head.
And I shake my head.
I'm choked by the thick air of iron and lead,
Eyes watering - full of sorrow.
Surely there's no hope -
For the generations to come.
And I hang my head.
And I hang my head.
The crying seas, the trees hacked, the animals fled.
The suits just sit, and whistle and hum.
But there is a kid,
Seperating paper from plastic.
And I look ahead.
And I look ahead.
When smiling when he so boldly said:
'I think our future will be fantastic.'
