Copyright 1992, S Hartwell

Iíve been beyond the mists of time
Of Earthís most ancient dreams,
And tossed about by winds of fate
Like pebbles in a stream,
Oh mankind if you would save this world
Look to your ancient genes,
The caveman knew much more than you
And lived within his means.

We borrow what we canít repay
And now we borrow time,
We must return to simpler ways
To save all humankind.


Copyright 1991, S Hartwell

What is life but an awful chore,
A terrible joke, a crushing bore,
When we our primeval urges thwart,
And all our instincts come to nought?

Give me a sword that I may rend,
The soul of man and shape the end
Of human domination;
Rid the earth of abomination.

What is earth but a plundered tomb,
As we outbreed her living room,
And toss resources into space,
Heedless that theyíre not replaced?

Give me the means and I will stifle
The human race that tramples life,
And hope the earth itself can heal
When free of mankindís crushing heel.

We dredge resources without rest,
The only creature to foul its nest,
We pollute the nurturing earth;
I rue the day that gave us birth.

Give me the word that spells the end,
And hope itís not too late to mend,
This planet, plundered, dying -
Give me the word and hear me cry it!


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