Over The Moor
Over The Moor
The parched land panted
Only to be drenched
But the holy soul
Receives nothing but a fall.
The very fall that no one desires
Still it encompasses heirs
Building castles in air
Till the world becomes unfair.
The triggering unfairness rules
Spilling all over with blues
Ruining all with hues
That darkened souls.
Souls cry out loud for freedom
Under the mercy of theorem
Over the moor lay in stillness
The crying soul in hope of freeness.