The Challenge

People are vessels
They don't need to be filled
With dirt up the top
Frozen with the severe cold
Will the end to the patience ever come?
Throw off the blackthorn wreath
Of a jewish god

Being always ready
To defend you home
Not having the aim of just eating
Sleeping peacefully
Give everything away
Yourself, your goods, and the home
To fight means live
And not being a blank sheet
Where everyone is ready to write down
His own thought
And fill you with himself,
As in the herd of sheep
A human's habit
To be a thinker
But mostly people riot
Only against their wives

A cross on a hill
Despondency's in the eyes
And fear's looking at everyone
Out of every corner
One out of two thousands
Is the mind that thinks
All the rest are the rubbish -
The breed of a crowd
Speechless herd
Is waiting for a herder
Who will receive the prize
When the time comes?

The race of degeneration
Is called the people
Dragging like lambs
After the shepherd
Will the end
To the human patience ever come?
Or will not?
And will pass by as a shadow?!
Let there not be a fight
And everyone is ready
To riot with themselves
And sleep peacefully at night.