Which way will the branch bend When there's no wind left to blow Which way will the river run When there's no where left to go What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry What kind of air are we to breath When there's none to take in What kind of soil do we turn over When the fallout's been What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry When do you think they'll tell us Don't they know that we know too When do you think they'll listen To the likes of me and you What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry And what kind of rain will fall On the land that's dead and gone And what kind of flowers Will look up for the sun What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry What colour will the leaves be A darker shade of brown Is this the kind of legacy To leave to the unborn What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry Which way will the branch bend When there's no wind left to blow Which way will the river run When there's no where left to go What do we tell the children When they start to ask us why And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry And where are the keepers Who bled the whole thing dry