the last bird from a scattered flock   seeks shelter in a tree   alone amongst the lonely woods   he will cry when noone hears   he will fall when noone cares   palls of grief hanging in the clouds    what must go wrong, so that we see   there's not enough to make us stop       we are the devils of a dying land   what evil spirit holds us here   we wear a careless mask   making friends with death   we are devils of a dying land      mankind took all nature's pride   mercy out of sight   demons dark around us swarm   forests' last time   the short last sound of singing birds   we don't know what it means   will we ever know?      a world where iron shells   can kill men's blood   a world of emptiness,   a dying land