WORDSWORTH SAYING

I wandered lonely as a cloud
o'er fields and dales and kirks.
And there on yonder mountain top,
a wind electric works.

I cycle gently down the roads,
the quiet trails and lanes,
but hanging in the bluest sky,
the tracks of all the planes.

A walk down summer river banks,
salmon, newts, and shags.
And dangling down from every tree,
are fifty plastic bags.

I'm standing on a wind swept cliff,
among the puffin chicks.
Looking downwards to the sea,
approaching oil slicks.

I'm in the densest woodland,
a song from all the birds.
And by me, from the mobile mast,
a million needless words.

The same old tale is everywhere,
in everything you do.
The futures bright or Orange.
Do you believe it's true?

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING ELSE.
TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND.
WITHOUT SOME DRASTIC CHANGES,
YOU WILL DESTROY THE LAND.