The resurrected dead rouses not the dead
In sunshine candles open not any eyes
But a whispery hush suffices for the living
And the sighted sees in the darkest depths
Miracles are not for the dead but the living
Jezebel vowed to ****, and Israel yet idolatrous
Parables, crafted tales, to mislead and hide
But turns to wine quenching mourning spirits
Millions are hidden and unknown, oppressed
By chance, without knowledge or intent, one,
by the wicked, blessed, but by miracle, Israel
remains unblessed, untouched by wickedness
