Hot fountains flow
Down the mountains slopes
From the crests within
So, I stop thinking
To allow the slow sinking
Of the weights from without
It's too bad a thought
Of one being the sort
Easy to bear is not
Except for Joseph the slave
To be left forlorn is not
The best treatment for most
It's true, it's true indeed
That's very true of me
Despite that am really in need
My alarm has not been heed
But taken like a hymn
Nice to hear, every after meal
No more will I ever fight
To suppress the rebel's flight
Mockingly will I shut the gates
But heartily I will allow them press
Their way out of the same
And with my head bowed
I'll show them the sign of approval
As I open my lips to smile bitterly
Since no one would mind really
If I cried loudly