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Gales and storms are gone, dead silence

Our ark still rides the sky

Sunset throws a bloody shine

onto the sails protecting our lives

Under the coat the game is carried on

in which the beatings go by the boards

Diseases, hunger and hate howl with triumph

when among us, many with no chances are born

The missionaries of life broke onto the stem

in the name of God manifesting life's protection

not knowing how to help them to survive

They band, with the holy book in hand

causing hell and pain to innocents

So how to trust you priests, my lord?