The last bird from a scattered flock
   seeks shelter in a tree
   alone amongst the lonely woods
   he will cry when noone hears
   he will fall when noone cares
   palls of grief hanging in the clouds
  
   what must go wrong, so that we see
   there's not enough to make us stop
  
   we are the devils of a dying land
   what evil spirit holds us here
   we wear a careless mask
   making friends with death
   we are devils of a dying land
  
   mankind took all nature's pride
   mercy out of sight
   demons dark around us swarm
   forests' last time
   the short last sound of singing birds
   we don't know what it means
   will we ever know?
  
   a world where iron shells
   can kill men's blood
   a world of emptiness,
   a dying land