There is no place called wilderness,
It’s just a trick, a false address.
A word you made to split the scene,
To crown yourself the go between.

But mate, your name is dirt, it’s true,
Humus means soil, that’s all of you.
You breathe the air, you drink the rain,
Without the earth you don’t remain.

You paved the street, you drained the brook,
You gave the forest that long look.
You called it savage, called it wild,
Like nature’s some neglected child.

But walls and maps won’t change the fact,
The ground will take her kingdom back.
Your shopping malls, your neon lights,
Are compost heaps on stormy nights.

You think you own it? Think again.
You’re just the dust, the mud, the grain.
And when the soil has had enough,
She’ll shake you off,
she’s not your stuff.

So wilderness? A clever lie.
The earth won’t stop, you’re just a try.
And when she shrugs you, sets you free,
She’ll keep on dancing,
minus we.