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