We bought a small suburban block,
the land considered cheap,
as something we could manage
and as something we could keep.

Back then the bush surrounded us,
a peace we could afford,
but watched as in a few short years
the population soared.

Soon roadways droned in constant hum
like swarms of angry bees
as scores of other hopeful people
chased their silver keys.

With wages low and prices high
our lives increased their pace
and we forgot about the bush
existing in this place.

We worried for our children,
for the wars and hate and crime.
We worried for our wealth
and the constant march of time.

But steadily, behind the noise,
the dozer blades had cleared
and suddenly it seemed
the peaceful bush had disappeared.

So now the bushland’s gone,
the mighty dollar made the call,
for somewhere in this rush called ‘life’
we failed to hear it fall.