Lyrics copyright 04/2026 Kati Weber All rights reserved [Intro] I stayed silent far too long and bore what you let happen all along. If only you had seen my pain instead of turning away again. Now I answer you with heat, with drought, with floods that do not cease, with forests burning, seas that rise, with species vanishing from sight. Because this is your doing. [Verse 1] I am the Earth, the ground beneath your feet. I gave you water; my air made breath complete. On me, all things began. To me, your birth was but a blink. Across aeons, through time and change, through evolution, you came to be. I brought forth life in boundless range, in vast diversity. And now, in one brief moment, you destroy what only slowly came to be. [Pre-Chorus] You bled me dry and tore my hidden stores from me, only to poison me with what you tore free. Since your industrial age began, you have cut deeper into me. Greedy... Restless... [Chorus] I survived the ages of ice. I survived the ages of heat. Change was never my undoing, never what could bring defeat. But this is no change anymore. This is you. And I do not mourn for me alone. I mourn for you as well. Because in your hunger to rule, you break the world in which you dwell, what feeds you, what shields you, what lets you breathe. Piece by piece, you take from yourselves the only world in which you can live. [Verse 2] You worked my making to exhaustion. I am tired. You tear apart the delicate fabric of life, the balance where all things could thrive. What you burn. What you consume. What you poison. What you tear from me. What you waste. What you destroy. I cannot keep pace with the speed you choose. I cannot renew what you take faster than I can bring forth anew. [Bridge] You take more than I still can give, and still you deny it day after day, wrapped in a comforting lie as if soft words could hide it. You do not wound my climate alone. You tear apart life’s delicate design. And while you think you are hurting only me, you destroy the ground your own future stands on. [Outro] I am tired. So tired. You are draining me. Not only in fire. Not only in floods. Also in what has long been measurable. Two thousand twenty-four: one point five five degrees more warming. Two thousand twenty-three: four hundred twenty parts per million of carbon dioxide. Since nineteen ninety-three: around ten centimeters of sea-level rise. Year after year: ten million hectares of forest gone. Today: more than forty-eight thousand six hundred species threatened. And still you believe everything is fine. But everything you keep taking from me returns to you as loss. And if you go on like this, you too will die like the species you have already wiped out.
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