Some say the Earth is where the demons lay.
Some say beneath the ground is where you'll hear the cries.

And I doubt it still.
Just out of hope that she might rise.

Even upon our highest hill is below what we can surmise.

Some say the skies is where we'll sigh after we die.
Forgive my baptized mind, but I read your book.
It denies lies.

So wise, and still
my will, bearing this skill, is shrilled
behind
this jive disguise.

Standing on what we could fulfill, we'll see the others improvise.