Beyond the charcoal graveyard, where the black stumps stand in rows,
And the tortured trunks of timber lie silent still below,
Beyond the smouldering hillsides, their ashen faces charred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Beyond the pitted dirt tracks, and the maze of twisting roads,
Where the forest fades to wood dust, where only log trucks go,
Beyond the barren wastelands, so silent, scorched and scarred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears.
Beyond the concrete city, with its hollow towers of glass,
Beyond the banks and boardrooms, where the money piles up fast,
As the woodland's turned to woodchip, by mankind's madness marred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears,
And the wilderness will whisper, its message clear to tell,
"Destroy us at your peril, you destroy yourselves as well."
And the tortured trunks of timber lie silent still below,
Beyond the smouldering hillsides, their ashen faces charred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Beyond the pitted dirt tracks, and the maze of twisting roads,
Where the forest fades to wood dust, where only log trucks go,
Beyond the barren wastelands, so silent, scorched and scarred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears.
Beyond the concrete city, with its hollow towers of glass,
Beyond the banks and boardrooms, where the money piles up fast,
As the woodland's turned to woodchip, by mankind's madness marred,
There's a place that's not so distant, though it seems so very far.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears.
Where the tall trees guard the future, as for a thousand years,
And the music of the song birds will echo in your ears,
And the wilderness will whisper, its message clear to tell,
"Destroy us at your peril, you destroy yourselves as well."
envoyé par Marcia - 25/6/2008 - 13:51
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"Here in Tasmania, as in Brazil, as in New Guinea, and as across the world, our magnificent life-giving old growth rainforests are being destroyed at record rates - for greed and plunder. We have to make them stop." Peter Hicks