From the mid-lands and the east

My Mother Earth, lies beneath this foreign carpet

waiting for the dawn to grow

But metal machines, come crawling on they’re bellies,

the people hide inside, so apart from the outside,

Those isolating, iron islands, ionize the air between us,

neutralizing, interacting souls

While the wind blows cold

Mother Earth is calling me

In her soft soothing voice

"Can’t you see all the beauty, while I’m holding you",

"and can’t you feel my healing touch"

Father Sky is crying through the valleys,

he’s trying hard to tell us

the filth from our follies

growing up

and burning a hole in the home that’ll shelter us from the storms

Hear them blow

Nahasasn, oamah

Yahuiquil, azehe, aquill

Shichai, Shichai, Shichai

Grandfather Spirit calls up to me

"Feel real land beneath thy feet"

"You can’t believe, and cannot hear a word I’m saying"

"if all you’re livings on concrete"

"Or the Daughter Earth may lay to the west"

"The Father Sun stretching shadows as he sets"

"Ihaya oamah nahasda"

And it all blows away