Lyrics
In this, a land of summits carved by ice and scoured by cold,
of wilderness and vistas that remain unchanged and whole,
of pines deep green, white aspen trees, and star-swept skies aglow;
some took for granted as their birthright all that was bestowed.
Where dusty mountain roads in spirals coil,
revealing visions through the peaks that reach toward heaven's dome,
step with respect: this may not be forever ours to hold.
Shacks of mangled weathered boards remain where men extracted gold,
marking where the miners slaved, exploited for their harshest toil.
Men were paid to kill and maim, by those who longed for wealth untold,
while some committed genocide so robbers could build railroads.
The native-born the settlers found believed the earth could not be owned
and untamed earth, surveyed, re-named, was stripped of its elusive soul.
Then land disguised as real estate was sold and sold and then re-sold.
Awkward mansions sprawl and pose upon uplifted rocky folds,
defacing cliffs and valleys green where sun-sparked rivers race and flow.
Mountain towns are overrun in seasons when the tourists roam;
ATVs crash through the woods, disturbing wildlife, leaking oil,
and interruptions dot the ridge lines where tract houses stand like clones.
In lands where natives dwelled, in lands we stole,
among the boulders etched by time, grieving spirits sigh and moan.
"Development" made strange the lands indigenous no longer knew;
natives who revered the earth were told their way of life was doomed.
Broken-hearted, forced to march through valleys where they once had thrived,
they were removed to lands so brutal, still they struggle to survive.
Now Paradise is Holocaust, her forests burn in violent throe;
it seems to be our destiny to die of self-inflicted woe,
as those in power fail to see that arrogance is all they know.
Hopelessly, we search for balms for climate and catastrophe;
how are we to heal a world our grandchildren won't live to see?
As glaciers shrink and disappear and islands drown before our eyes,
as whales cry and dolphins sigh and birds fall from the browning skies,
as sterile fish and mutant frogs join in extinction's dance,
iniquity and greed conspire, supplanting tribal prayers and chants.
In all haste, and desperately, too late we search for remedy.
Perhaps one day the fools and thieves will pass away unknown,
still believing myths and lies they themselves have honed,
and with them take the rest of us who've tried to educate and warn,
and all of us will be cast out of Paradise where we were born.
We manifested "destiny," claimed what we found, and slammed the door.
Why didn't we collaborate and honor those who came before?
Perhaps this "tribe" that rules the globe will one day see the world implode.
Confusing "progress" with mistakes, we've sacrificed our sacred home.
Humanity will not survive a folly that seems set in stone.
Is it our fate to disappear, destroying what we stand upon,
caught in raging currents, pressed toward lemming-like oblivion?
There may be time to change our ways; in honesty, we cannot say.
If preaching helps, then let us preach; if prayer would help, then let us pray
we'll one day find a different path, divorced from suicide's ballet.