Make for the meadow and savour the grass while it lasts Spidery fingers of industry reach for the sky Brick upon brick, stone upon stone they grow Choking the atmosphere, oh, so incredibly slowly Sulphur and carbon and hydrogen sulphide and lime Fever, corrosion, and cover your cities with grime Something is killing the land before your eyes Could be the insane, inhumane games we play Mushrooming home in a crowd, I'm alone Close your eyes, lie still You are a mountain stream and I am a hill There is a field of blossom and bees and new mown hay