Gliding through the valley, there's a river flowing by

The grass is growing slowly, from shore to mountainside

The trees are standing silent, as they rise up to the sky

Can you see the little children, laughing gayly in their play

Does it help you to remember, when the world seemed newyly made

But though they may be little, well there growing everyday

And the world will be theres and there's nothing you can say

There's a whole wide world for us all

Will it lose us if we cannot make the call

You stand upon your mountain, looking down to dusty plain

You've found what you've been looking for, in sedentary vain

But where are all the children? There's nowhere they can play

So they're marching up the valley, to the mountain that they claim

The whole world belongs to us all

We only rent it to the ones who make the call

The greenness of the valley, and the flowers growing wild

Fills the stomach, feeds the soul, lifts the sprit to the sky

So what will you be growing, while you emptying your mine

And what will you be selling, when there's no one left to buy?

What will you remember, when it's time for you to go?

Will it be the pretty valley, or a pile of shiny gold?

And what of all the children? They're bold and fully grown

There writing down the story, of the valley that you stole

Inspired by Greta Thunburg

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