the grass grows, a prarie
the wilderness across a continent
and we take it, we clear it out and make in our image
the backyards, the driveways
the covered wagons rushing through the high plains
the motels on the canyon,
they make a second nature
and what was it for,
this country, the farms and the blood across a prarie
the nation we become as we build a second nature
no no no the rivers run
and parking lots
the endless, endless feilds and cities
we make them, replace them
with all our dreams of the future
and what was it for the swimming pools
the highways, the ball games in the dusk
on the battlefield
the times we were so foolish and so young
no no no (like a lot of times)
the grass grows we take it
we want it
it's secon nature to us

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