Ever wonder if the King of kings is fascinated with the cheerful laughter of an innocent child amidst the formalities of a Sunday service?
Or the silence of the winds on the trees while the drums blare wildly?
Do you ever wonder if these unnoticed signs say more than those we think say already much?
When are we going to communicate with our inner being that can secretly reach the Almighty without rocket science?
Once we do, would we be surprised if we discover new treasure folds of wisdom more amazing than the most mysterious of galaxies?
Sing to me your song, o dying tree, sing to me your song
Tell me how your leaves used to catch the morning dew
As you bear your fruits in every season
And repeat the melodies of the birds who take refuge in you
Sing to me your song, o dying waters, sing to me your song
How you parched barreness with your crystal clear threads
Cleansing life from filth and grime
And with power changed the shape of the earth through time
Sing to me your song, o dying mountain, sing to me your song
Let me know how you witnessed history that made man
Heights that conquered human prowess and horizons
And hid treasures that challenged us to go beyond
Sing to me your song, o dying field, sing to me your song
Tell me how your grain grew in the sunlight and the rain
How you kept this man alive with what the earth bore
And how we became rich with the treasures you stored
For we have lost the song that only the earth can sing
We distorted your melody which was actually a sin
Unmanaged industrialization only made a deathly ring
Our civilization forgot the riches this earth can bring
Sing to us your song, o dying earth, sing to us your song
For this one last generation, sing to us your song