For A Man To Be Free (Man-tarded)

For а man to be free,
Is to find where to live.

For the land to be free,
Is to live at peace with all who walk on her sleeves.

Strange how man cannot see,
How deeply scarred is the land beneath his feet.

He cannot see that by making more asphalt room,
He only rushes towards his own doom.

It's sad to see how man thrives for distant stars and planet rims,
Forgetting what the very same land once gave to him.

But there will come a day,
When the land will take what it gave.
And then the land will become the butcher,
And man will be the prey.

All the scars man made,
Shall be reflected back on his back.
All the trains of thought gone astray,
Will be pushed right on track.

It's sad to see how blind had become the man's mind,
Seeing only profit, career and belongings race.

And the land is slowly decaying,
Creatures and plants disperse beneath machines raging.

The land has caught lounge cancer,
From this tobacco called man.
Like a strong, armored lancer,
He’s drawing the breath out of the land,
As fast as he can.

When will come the final battle,
One critical strike,
And the mortal wound will occur.

Then history pages will be filled with mysty angels,
Running devils will roam all levels.

And should man forget where he started,
Land itself will name him man-tarded.