Each one will stand as a shelter from high winds, provide safe cover in stormy weather. Each will be cool running water in parched land, a huge granite outcrop giving shade in the desert.
For fools are fools and that's that, thinking up new ways to do mischief. They leave a wake of wrecked lives and lies about GOD, Turning their backs on the homeless hungry, ignoring those dying of thirst in the streets.
Weep for my people's gardens and farms that grow nothing but thistles and thornbushes. Cry tears, real tears, for the happy homes no longer happy, the merry city no longer merry.
The royal palace is deserted, the bustling city quiet as a morgue, The emptied parks and playgrounds taken over by wild animals, delighted with their new home.