One morning, when the sun comes up
I will see it shine above the valleys of that city
Upon that city that once rose atop the lake
One fine morning, the people will cease murdering each other
No ammunition sounds will reach the ear, and no more gunpowder in the air
No more tears of blood from open wounds
And no more human puzzles to decipher
One morning, when the sun comes up
It will shine its rays upon the missing
Rays that they will follow home,
Where they’ll be greeted with marigolds
Below the mountains, I will see flower gardens  
Full of calla lilies and flower pickers carrying them
That morning, when the sun won’t forget to shine from open skies,
My compatriots will play ‘Pretty Little Sky”
All will sing, and none will cry, because the sun will shine
And bathe away sorrows of the past.