High and low
This world is naught but unfair
A dove and a crow
Can never meet in one lair
Men build walls of prejudice
And fortresses of discrimination
With this and more than these
Ruins the heart of every nation
With the sands of hours running out
Ghosts and shadows got lost in the crowd
Digging their graves without a doubt
Buried in secrecy under a shroud
O! The flowers have began to wilt
And the skies darkened in shame
With the wind blowing away petals of guilt
And the clouds killing the rainbow for fame
Cripples and broken things
Were gladly thrown in a basket
With their arms in iron rings
And souls in a black casket
The river shall face its death
Letting the cold creep in
Until the truth becomes a myth
And a good deed becomes a sin
