For Evil slithers unprovoked, its memoirs masquerading in endless graves of tyranny, its victims promenanding Before the Throne of Justice like a thundering waterfall, while here—a bugler wails his taps in mournful protocol.
It’s written in the earth, That sunshine follows rain. It’s written in the earth, That sorrow comes again, That wars will ever roam. It’s written in the earth, While far away from home.
I pray for your peace of mind,
Your steady aim,
For your intuition and senses to be keen.
I pray you find happiness in your heart
And kindness when you are far from home.