| On the hills, I see the corn is swiftly growing
|
| In the gardens, trees are barren of their fruits
|
| Bathed in sunshine, peasants toil, their labor showing
|
| In the glory of the ever-healing roots
|
| Well, I’m feeling
|
| That it’s all right, now!
|
| Yes, I’m feeling
|
| It’s all right… now!
|
| Anyway…
|
| On the land, 'neath a million rays of sunshine
|
| Stands the secret of the mirror-colored (?) life
|
| Lying peacefully, the soil in all the sunshine
|
| Lend its strength to the simplicity of life
|
| Well, I’m feeling
|
| That it’s all right, now!
|
| Yes, I’m feeling
|
| It’s all right… now!
|
| Anyway…
|
| A simple symphony, a tale without an ending
|
| But the beauty of that spirit couldn’t last
|
| Revolution bred machineries of power
|
| Could revolution turn the tide back to the past?
|
| Well, I’m feeling
|
| That it’s all right, now!
|
| Yes, I’m feeling
|
| It’s all right… now!
|
| Anyway…
|
| I see a giant hand descending from above my head
|
| And suddenly, there’s factories for rent, now you’re dead
|
| A man is just a number on a perforated card
|
| Your personality is lost, is this a just reward?
|
| Revolution, revolution
|
| A man who’s sucking all your blood will work you very hard
|
| In the news, they’re wasting (?), toiling for a crust of bread
|
| Only hoping that their children now will all be fed
|
| The factory mole of today is ever wanted more
|
| Deep inside, his greedy hand is like a clutching claw
|
| Revolution, revolution
|
| Has the one reward he should be working for been lost?
|
| A simple symphony, a tale without an ending
|
| But the beauty of that spirit couldn’t last
|
| Revolution bred machineries of power
|
| Could revolution turn the tide back to the past?
|
| Well, I’m feeling
|
| That it’s all right, now!
|
| Yes, I’m feeling
|
| It’s all right… now!
|
| Anyway… |