Men Are Building Sand

See the beams of steel as they rise
Higher almost touching the skies
Making room for the city’s wealth
Brick by brick from the storage shelf
Not for those who are ill of health
Men are building sand
How intriguing
Quite deceiving
In my hand
Tearing down the forest of wood
Building on the land that was good
All the trees are becoming scare
Beams replacing what once was grass
No more sand it’s been turned to glass
Men are building sand
How degrading
They are fading
In my hand
As they build their towns made of steel
Making use of things that were real
Where’s the patch where my garden lay?
What’s become of the fields we play?
Asked the priest, but he wouldn’t say