Dwell in a rustic whereabouts,
Dinning on sweet tasty trouts,
Forgiving unto all evils thus,
Fate is a new born curse,
Hoping for hopes of longing
Kissing the slaves wrong doings,
When shall the souls falter,
and when shall begin run after;

Days are passing, hopes are rising
People are living, People are dying
There is bitter love and tasty deciet
there is venomous ego, lovers' treat
We have come , we will go soon
to places far, scary and unknown
Till then, my friends let there be love
Let us hate the hate, and be peace dove