Gaia’s Rest

Gaia, rest soon comes to thee:
Of the blight of humans, you’ll soon be free.
They burn away your damp green skin
’Till dry wasteland shows where they’ve been.
They plunder, loot destroy and kill
Until things become so still
That life itself cannot be found
In sea or air or on the ground.
“Progress!” is their battle cry,
Their reason for war is not known why;
They kill themselves by attacking thee,
Their destruction comes but they will not see.
They’ll soon be gone from thy face,
This accursed blight, the human race.