Riding on paper horses in the woods of brick, stone, and concrete, dreaming of progress
Remember that childhood village
Flowing river, floating fish in the river
Floating people, children jumping in the river
True of heart but raw of intellect
My village kept moving slowly along the roads of raw roads, bullock carts on footpaths, bicycle tires, and crops waving with the far wind.
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Do not know why when I am away from my village
My village comes to my mind
Maybe it makes me feel that something is left
Or just annoys
Probably tells me to stop here
Tackle the problems here
And push me forward then get the whole world on it
Show the whole world what I am
Smoke spewing factories are not right here
Life is there with green swaying crops in the fields
Explain to the world its true value
Development can also occur without harming nature
Show it by doing it here
Time is moving at its own pace
When I see a needle moving in a clock hanging on the wall, it seems as if there is no needle, a sharp-edged sword, such a sword that keeps moving from relationship to relationship, cutting down trees from the forests.
A sword that is turning a man into a machine, a joy to a mess, and a house into a cabin full of machines.
Do not know where human civilization started and where it is going
Where are we going.