How can I make this up to you
An old woman called Gaia
I took from you all I pleased
More a robber than messiah
Finding a field full of treasure
A drink from your fresh brook
From the nectar of your bees
The honey made of your flowers
I washed in your cold streams
I dug into your fertile earth
Planting a vineyard of pleasure
I caught fish and trapped game
Cooking them over an open fire
I nourished my body, soul, and mind
Never once did I pay for a thing
Because you were everything to me
Everything I would ever need
Now I look back and wonder
Whatever happened to my plunder
For now it is my turn as well
To give back as well I can
But there is nothing left asunder
Just a life that has perished
When all such life so flourished
Now only the orange smoke haze
Drifts over darkened charred remains