There’s bloody windmills everywhere – too many for my lance;
if I should take them all on I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Maybe I’m getting older but I’m much wiser too;
I can’t fight every battle I’ll lose all if I do.
I stand and watch the world go down drainage hole
and I really cannot figure out, just what is their goal.
They know the world is dying, the victim of their greed;
mayhaps they’ve built a monster that they all now must feed.
One giant worldwide factory that does nought but consume
and leads us all on blindly to our own corporate doom.
There is no Spirit left here, we are the deaths ghastly drones
and underneath the weight of us poor Gaia simply groans.