with a mix of hate and hope that glow
the wish of a wall on which i could glide
down a lightened cellar where i could hide
in case they come at my door
cause resistance is the flower of fear
as the coward's promise is to dry the tears
of a world not as a fair as can be
and to break the heart of the jailor's jaws
as the magpie's vibes on the poplar's branch
