Men Are Building Sand - The Left Banke

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