We have in ways reaped,
The crops we sown,
Despair and death deep,
Darkness over the lands and things,
Broods like an owl we cannot understand,
Laughter and tears are all we have known,
between our torn hands as the earth enfolds,
Our lovesick hearts will be,
Turned into dust,
For enjoy each day for the best, Breaths,
And at the hour of death, God
May God show us Mercy?
For this end algorithm is our DESTINY\"