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 boy

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