This is the start but where is the ending?
 Do we still have means to pretend?
 Creation shouting praise for the keeper 
 Glory to the son of a man

 The shovel has let our Mother's blood
 Ingredient of life has been peeled off
 Slowly the land withers away
 Disappears into thin air

 I'm standing at the age of the blackened swamp
 I can't hear the crane's horn or the black grouse bowline
 The treadmill rotates
 But only in one direction
 In the shade of the plant
 The contractor smiles

 Seventh Swamphony
 Mother's tears have dried
 Deadly way to live
 Work has been done 

 Wounded land full of ditches
 Excavated upside down
 Every day he keeps on rooting
 Glory to the son of a man

 Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the land

 I'm standing at the age of the blackened swamp
 I can't hear the crane's horn or the black grouse bowline
 The treadmill rotates
 But only in one direction
 In the shade of the plant
 The contractor smiles

 Seventh Swamphony
 Mother's tears have dried
 Deadly way to live
 Work has been done 

 Glory to the Son of a Man who inherited the land