Broken hearts beat to the drum of sorrowful chants.
Marching on go days of anguish filled crazed rants.
Alto saxophones lament into a slow jazzy blues song.
Tears flow freely from sore eyelids all day long.
Twisted messages of honesty remain regular prose.
Watching faces tell fictitious tales as the nose grows.
Prayer in faith heeds truth bearing patient fruit.
El Olam directs all things and remains absolute.