All hope is gone from this world of ours, We have nothing left to fight for. All that’s left are the scars of a life, That’s been lived on the edge hanging on.
We fought a war, not knowing what for; For oil, for money, for them, for sport?
The darkness is here, There is sun to shine upon us, From up above us. This is us, the dead sons.
Life drains out of me leaving a hollow shell. This is my hell. This is the cause of all my wars, Against a world that is not mine to belong to; it is yours. It is yours to ruin, or to save, or to send to its grave…
Butterflies emerge from unraveling cocoons Raising up, flying away like hot air balloons Traveling the world from calm meadows to isolated lagoons Harmonious living with the squirrels and raccoons Soaring above endless ocean until treacherous typhoons Relentless digging uncovered a
Jesus, hope for the world Hope for the ones who are Tired and fearful and looking For rest Jesus, glorious and ruling With love and with peace for A world that seeking the God who will redeem and Bring comfort