It isn't the quality of the words that measure truth it's the men we all see with such clear eyes Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle echoes of their roots displayed in a contest of wills two brothers follow the same dream two brothers dance the same songs We can never stop being who we are we can grow thriving under a perfect sun but our roots forever spread from the single source our birthplace and home Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle find peace at last in each others truth we are the same inside the dream we are fellow travelers whose nature it is to find hope and love in the cloudiest of days