All is one in the eyes of the most high;
there is no division in the eyes of the eternal, there
is no boundary born of sand.
The lust of eternity shines in the eyes of the foolish,
the men in love with their hands, mighty
yet scorched with the flames of the unrighteous.
This land is free; all land is free.
All is one in the eyes
of the most high,
the power of knowing winds
draw chaos from the sand,
the primordial broth of nations
rises; water cascades on
the breathless empires,
wasted and unashamed,
whose repentence for death
is death, drying dreams
brought to the living
by burning embers,
the cool of the shade hiding
the faces of the wealthy cowards,
the men of science.
The roots will once again grow great:
the roots will tumble through the
sewer grates, the homes
of the restless vermin
rising to the seat of the righteous
and basking in the glow of freedom
as the foolish breezes carry
songs of homelands
now demolished, their flags