The Garden

In a garden on a hill,
Early in the spring,
If you listen with your heart
You can hear it sing.
Hear the longings of the loneliest of souls,
Lost and afraid, far away from the fold.

In a garden on a hill,
Someone seems to care;
He is nurturing with love.
Still, you must be aware
Of the taunting of the one who still believes
He can destroy every hope that he sees.

And the battle for allegiances isn't won with guns or spears.
It's an ageless fight over what is right,
And the tool of war is fear.

In a garden on a hill,
Early in the spring,
If you listen with your heart,
You will hear it sing.