Where are those that provided protection?
Where are these giants of old?
And where in the world did I stand when they needed protection of their own?
It's true, nothing in this life is granted
Other than the reminders of decay
For all who stood tall have dissolved into the conciousness of our yesterday

Barren have become my lands
Emptied through the averice deed
Laceratered by the wounds of hand
Vanished keep of bark, root and seed
Sapling ghosts I long for now
Blackened by the touch of fire and smoke
Lost in the questions of why and how
I still hear the whisperings of pine and oak

Thy thickets urn, my heavens burn
Where now will I search for serenity?
For leaf and fern, my heart shall yearn
Within the embers of our own obscenity

Paradise now feign, nature in chains
As is my soul internally for the cost of gain
Blood stains these plains
And we follow in the footsteps of eternity