As she flows from the mountains
Into the ocean deep,
From the pure mountain water,
She becomes a rubbish heap.
Providing us with life throughout
The return which we give her;
If she was one of us, I'm sure
And tell us her thought,
We would no longer continue to live
But, be cursed in hell to rot!
But she is the mother of life,
Swallowing dirt and flowing by.
And when things are just too much,
She'll give every drop until she dries.
When calm and serene, we call her pure
And torture her...that's for sure.
And when she throws turbulent waves
The earth surface gets covered in graves.