Nothing is what it seems,

the day is black, the night

denies us comfort, sleep.

The wind is howling,

and thousand voices sing along

the song of broken dreams, of home,

of deprivation and journey long.


To the promised land. Where?

Remember the last time we swore

we could help them get there?

When? Even Hope dare not say

and promise those in need.

But we can plant the seed.


We are not weak,

We’ve changed the world before.

All is at hand and it’s not a game,

we all shall lose if stand not again.

To deny fear and calm the wind.

I want to hear them sing…


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