In The Greenland
It'd have been better
To have us killed and let our goddess live.
Gardens you turned to soulless fields,
Destroying the altar of ancient sacrifice.

Drops of hemlock forced into her mouth,
And she spewed out abundant fruits of wonders.
Eternity has lost potency and numbers' become useless;
Our goddess furious for the worship unto her.
When she gets furious,
It's thought a blessing, before the wiping;
Before the flood Noah cannot save himself from,
A curse of famine stomachs tremble at.
The engines ride her without homage,
Ploughing her bed like a chest of hairs.
Her tears of torment we can see
In the cans the smokes have brought us.
The Greenland we need live and die in,
Now its flowers pale and faded.
Where hands must shower mustard seeds,
Whilst the sun watches in unrivalled tranquility.
Gone is the sacred rite as long as they breathe,
What Adam wanted us pass to our children.
Wearing duty like abiku's bangles and beads;
Our true pride resides in the strength of wills.
The door's been locked, key lost:
And no way to enter our glorious paradise.
Lift up your heads and be thou lifted up,
That the princes may appease the thirsty goddess.
Our salty blood offered unto her,
Our rocky palms making colourful claps
Unto her long-deaf earrings.

