A God is at home,
Every time he feels alone,
Seeking for that light,
Always looking clear and bright.

Reaching sadness through his hope,
Containing happiness in good tone,
Worning out the loaded roads,
From the muddy banks of floods.

No one and nothing can’t change,
What the crude and sappy destiny make,
Murder our faith brings shame,
Asking where he stand in this game.

In fact emptiness of empathy,
Show us where he makes democracy,
Demonstrating knowledge in temptation,
Would make this man reach the imperfection?