Fallen branches
Broken seasons
Summer sun
And all the trees on fire.
Down the slopes like
Scattered rock slides
The air is thick
With carbon dioxide.
I will bring you down...
Dying embers
I remember
Village friends you
Put all your trials on me.
One eruption
Would dwarf this corruption
What will they know
If I blame the volcano?
I will bring you down...
O volcano!
O volcano!
O volcano!
They know our secret now!
Writer(s): Lawrence Becko
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