Spectral Paradise

The Good Lord gave us flowers, dragonflies and things;
A multitude of colours; petals, feathers, wings;
The freshness of a day and the chorus of a dawn;
A Spectral Paradise for which the Earth was born.

All creatures lived together in a lush terrain;
Growing as they needed, melting back again.
But made above God's image, entered Modern Man
Who saw the world a Market, trading then began.

And fruit he turned to 'produce', trees he turned to planks;
'Habitats' to ranches owned by Western banks.
Soon gone was nature's orchard, the forests cut and burned;
And a hundred thousand species never will return.

He claimed it was for "Progress, economic growth".
When challenged on his ethics, said he'd "Sold them both".
In more reflective moments, conceding he was mad;
He upped again to rape the best Earth that we have.

Oh Earth! Can you forgive us for what we have done?
Can you provide subsistence any more than once?
With human greed rampaging and stocks depleted? No.
I doubt it, for your bleeding, and haven't long to go.

And the freshness of a day with the chorus of a dawn;
A Spectral Paradise will ne'er again be born.

And the freshness of a day with the chorus of a dawn;
A Spectral Paradise will ne'er again be born.