1994 | No recording
Cry for the choking seabird
Flapping bleeding, ruined wings
On oily Shetland Island rocks.
Cry for the tide's dark, rainbow waves
Washing, thick and slow,
Against blackened village fishing docks.
Cry for the schools of fish
Gasping, choking, struggling, dying
In grey floes like rotting ice.
Cry for the vegetation,
Scorched and burned,
By an oil with a napalm hatred for plant life.
When will we all realise
That the world is a frightened child
That we have sexually abused?
The golden chain of life
Holding nature's fragile scales
Lies shattered at the craftsman's feet.
He reaches down - he hesitates,
Touching petrolium-raped landscape
And shudders as he weeps.
When will we all realise
That the world is a frightened child
That we have sexually abused?
The World as a Frightened Child has a big, spacious sound that needs a band. Not having a band, the song would sound lame if I recorded it, although it does work as a solo song in a live setting.