歌词
Fill me up on pesticide,
Don't care if I live or die,
We won't hear eastern kingbird,
He choked singing his very last word.
We're heading for a silent spring, us birds won't sing
We're heading for a silent spiring, us birds won't sing
Poor wood-thrush is in a rush
Fleeing chemical ambush
Our wilderness ploughed you people need food
Flew twelve thousand miles just to sing to you
We're heading for a silent spring, us birds won't sing
In the words of Emily Dickinson, we're the rowdy of the meadow