Drink my wine with me and tell me about your utopia, your paradise,
Eat my bread and listen to the earth as it shakes and scream in pain,
Rest in my place and feel the chill of the wind as it speaks of times long ago,
A storm is coming, can you feel it?
This land will never be the same, and maybe that is a good thing, for we have destroyed it,
The air is not as sweet as it was in times long past, and forgotten,
The water is not as clean; the forest is not as green, the meat not as lean,
There is a storm coming, can you not feel it?
The birds were many, just years gone by, and wild life thrive without fear,
The sands of time is running low, and there is no place to go,
Drink my wine, and tell me of your utopia,
For there is a storm coming and nothing will ever be the same.