Slowly the wheel turns 'round and 'round,
defying every superstitious claim;
That only fear surely lies ahead,
as wicked sorcerers have proclaimed.

In a conspiracy of reckless gallantry,
the people appearing restless and tired;
Like the embers flying through the sky,
from a raging, roaring and ceaseless fire.

The clock tells time but no one cares,
to know if the hour has finally come;
When spirits' light or devil's darkness,
will erase the quandaries within their homes.

They sob and pray till their voices falter,
with hopelessness from the perilous days;
Until an angel appears singing out with love,
and a promise their souls will soon be saved.

Feeling worthy now--their emotions quite shaken,
from discovering faith within the realm;
For only charity's gifts can conquer hate,
and horrors dissolve through peace and calm.