Stick and Sand

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Men of vernacular’s foolish lip fought
One man rose to wipe their tarnished eyes
Poetic words spilled on their weathered hearts
Our fait by foreign state begin our sigh
Justice’s bell would not ring for some time
People begin to sing to our hearts strum
Day’s effort would be long to bar a line
Our rhythm’s cry stretched for reason’s son
Men argued our fait on condemned hands action
Through liars faulty lips of savage rage
Our angel then explained by rare fraction
Speaking foreign tongue that closed our cage
Then he with stick and sand awoke my mind
To our souls content it sung of our time

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