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Do not worry, to me, you are saying
When the dead died without waking
And the alive is living without hope
What will it be to hold ever strong
you call a rope?
It is the hell as sun
And you are calling it
a blessing to Abraham’s son
When the moon is no longer special
Ain’t you seeing the shinning is brutal?
Under the tree is no longer shadow
And the wind carries no gleeful brow
And you are calling it a good fate
Are you telling me to live with faith?
Do you think smiles are good
in shriveled face
When there is no strength
anymore in taking life’s race?
Answer my mind and heart
Tell us that it is not permanent
