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We use the Earth for all
our needs,
The more we use, the more it bleeds,
The more it bleeds, the less it feeds,
And in the end, not one succeeds.
We justify the things
we do,
And how we think of just the few,
We hide our heads but know it's true,
And one day we will pay our due.
We'll wake to silence
in the sky,
"The birds are gone"; we'll wonder why,
And streams below with no supply,
Are places where the fish will die.
But that is not how it
should be,
With wilting land and dying sea,
As nature cries out to be free,
It's up to you and up to me.
Come, celebrate the
place we dwell,
Instead of making it a hell,
Let's hear the toiling of the bell,
Or we will bid our Earth farewell.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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