By Anna Saclolo
I see the sand-driven mountains and the wind blown sea,
I hear the birds over head in the sky towering trees.
There’s a man over yonder where the sky is painted red,
Yes his skin has been torn and his eyes have bled.
He looks to the sky as he falls to the ground
He reaches to his mind for a savior that’s not yet been found.
So he crawls to the mountain, there’s a cave where he can go.
And on his way he had stopped where the river flow….
Then the wind blows stronger and he’s again on his Way,
Up to the mountains, it is there he will lay.