'Continental Drift', by Chamodi

The air I breathe is thick with fumes.
There are people running everywhere.
There are skyscrapers towering over everyone,
Blocking the slightest ray of light from passing.
What has this beautiful land come to?
The land of shimmering horizons,
And fresh soil full of life.
The places spiritual to those native,
The homes of rare wildlife.
Peoples’ children who played in this land,
And the flora they loved.
People simply pass by,
Ignoring the beauty of this land.
They replace it with industries,
They replace it with businessmen,
They replace it with foreign plants and animals.
They just don’t care,
The natives’ land, they don’t care.
Their selfish ways can’t be healed,
And the air I breathe will forever be thick with fumes.