Please allow yourself some bed rest for what sort of wicked gang are we.

Seven days have held heaven above my head, they took everything.

They took my robe, staff, and bread.

So instead, instead of feeling sorry and running my self dead after
the cliff had opened her arms for me.

The earth can shake, and I can starve.

Freedom painted on the golden hillside,

when I close my eyes
that's all that I can see.