The hills are burning  like the peat below

The hills are burning  like the peat below
Turned to steam , the river does not flow
The puzzled sheep meander as they bleat
In beds of heather, they can’t rest or sleep
Such high bright moors , such charring of the rose.

The fires inside the earth   escape to show
It is hell that Satan’s demons  draw.
Energy vibrates  like music fleet
The hills are burning

The weather of the world has no fixed law
Like the sons of Adam and their flaws
This conundrum of the world we meet
The centre  is a  fire, oh, nuclear peat
The open earth has space within its maw
The hills are burning