Easter, all will be quieton the front of my home town
in sobrietyas if in stupor. Hymns and songs
O God I wantand then it will be all over on
Easter will once again amidst
ruinous ashes lead all roads
to prayer, the young and the
old will believe for once
that dark forces have withered.
My gnomic town remains unmoved.
No prayer can storm it's ramparts