Disturbing lines of wicked ways,
break up among the hills that sway;
Beyond the river's flowing path,
where seas of gloom turn into glass.

The smoothest sky will not erase,
the jagged edges from your face;
and in the hazy moonlit night,
each victim craves the wayward light.

While creeping slowly through the day,
emotions fade from shadows gray;
With wounded sounds from enemies,
who've captured voices from the trees.

Shards of glass cut like a knife,
which humble us in pain and strife;
Will hope deliver us from fear,
when raindrops fall like holy tears ?