One day the digital fears of dark nights will end
More filled carrion in the mechanism of Middle East tired clock
Will stop it one day
locked woeful sounds of tears between its hands
Will flow down by our dream ladder and
Perk new handkerchiefs with our hopes
One day they will clean ear wax of ignorance and
Destroy homes of war voices that
set down inside ears
Hold tight in your hands your toy branch my son
Draw an adoring sun
For the next happy days on future sky
Your small and dry branch will come into leaf one day
Your drown sun just above your head on sky
Will remove one day
All shadows of rusty weapons on you
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