Song

Stroll down town to the sound

of your own song

as we drown with a thousand pounds

of the wrongs on our hearts.

Polar to Peter and John with a song

to expound on the belongings

of the God of the pallid crowned,

not bound to hurt all along.

Oh, how I long!

Stand strong to the end prolonged

as the time has come to resoud

the profound song of our firm ground.

Oh, for so long

you could look around

at our voices bound and distraught.

Will the notes now surround the

throng or be gone -