Hate and anger were ever confined;

Only was the love for human kind;

Watching things with an open mind;

We were stright nut not the blind;

Then guns become the sign of brave

The wrestles lead us to the grave

We were lovely, free, but not the slave;

But fighting leads us to the time of cave;

We ware raw and behind the age;

But creed of us was not the rage ;

Care for guest was the local made;

Helping people and never afriad;

Watch movie into eyes;

Thistles of miser, ruin of despise;

 Roads have gone mourning supply;

Mother tearning and passing sigh;

Drop the shovels of the shame;

With brushes make a lovely frame;

See glimmering sky in my sight;

beetle is wheeling for his flight;

Wisdom is not found in the age;

Knoledge needs no ample frame;

We are simple not the crafty sage;

Breeze never bound in the cage;

Having bread, nor a single pie;

Love for life is still moving high;

We will grow up and fly in the sky;

 Having no dispute; quarrel and cry;