May be we came from far away galaxy
Or maybe really bred from monkeys…
It doesn’t matter where we came from
We are here now. And this is our Home.
We say we love flowers, but still we pluck them,
We say we love trees, but still we cut them down,
We say we love water, but still we put trash on them,
We say we love fresh air, but still we spread dark, smoky clouds through the sky.
When the last bird leaves the earth,
When the last river becomes a desert land,
When we finish building houses from the last forest,
When the blue sky and fresh air gone forever,
Could we be happy?
Do our greedy minds will satisfy?
Blue sky as roof of our Homes,
Trees, flowers and animals as our family,
Soil as carpet of our floors,
Earth is ours and we are nothing without it…