28
I grew up in polluted air, behind the sheds of the old steel-mill.
The times were hard, but I made my stand on the slope of sulphur hill.
We grew up crippled and stunted, distorted by acid rain,
But we were just trees, and we never complain,
and they think we feel no pain.
My father was guard of their borders, a mighty frontier oak,
But me, I just clung to the hillside, covered with soot of the coke.
At 28 rings they cut me down, the steel-mills needed more space.
They always do, we know it is true,
the trees, who once owned this place.
They were slaying us by the hundreds, for whatever they think it is worth,
What they don't understand, when they scorch the land:
They will follow, when we leave planet Earth.
Comments
3
Information
| Section | Motive: Stillleben |
| Folders | Zeugs |
| Views | 417 |
| Published | |
| Language |
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| License |
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Tea Aiello 18/11/2007 13:06
..la tua foto..rappresenta una ferita..spirituale...almeno io la vedo così..bella profonda..bravo..Un sogno lungo una vita....
Tea AielloLiz Collet 18/11/2007 7:31
simply naturesimply wonderful
Katarina A 18/11/2007 7:23
Fantastic words...with a fantastic pic...We take so much for granted...and fresh air..water ..trees etc..is not the same...Thank you Katarina