She lies in bit-ter a-gon-y,
Wound-ed by what none can see.
Her life-blood stains the world a-round,
Yet ig-nored, cries si-lent-ly.

I weep for this dear land of mine,
for-sa-ken and in ruin.
The tears she's spent in weep-ing ere
now hath dried a-mongst the gloom.

I've tra-velled long her man-y paths;
O-ver hill, through vale and stream.
Be-held the crea-tures in her care,
Slept and shared her count-less dreams.

Oh, why hath peace for-sa-ken her?
Left naught but fear and shame.
Oh, why doth men and beast con-tend,
Car-ing naught for the land's name?

No long-er trav'-ler's roam.
Few dare tread these paths of strife.
War, sor-cerous ways and doom,
Look to re-place her thri-ving life.

No lon-ger care we for
her breath, her heart, her soul.
We strugg-le 'mongst our-selves,
Car-ing not that we shall fall,

With this land...
With this land...

We war, we weep,
we sing, we talk.
Per-ish the land,
'tis all for naught.