You Believe God Is Not There, But

Drum Sound Rises On The Air, Its Throb, My Heart. A Voice Inside The Beat Says, "i Know You're Tired, But Come. This Is The Way.

Be Full Of Sorrow, That You May Become Hill Of Joy; Weep, That You May Break Into Laughter.

Your Task Is Not To Seek For Love, But Merely To Seek And Find All The Barriers Within Yourself That You Have Built Against It.

Where Lowland Is, That's Where Water Goes. All Medicine Wants Is Pain To Cure.

In The Slaughterhouse Of Love, They Kill Only The Best, None Of The Weak Or Deformed. Don't Run Away From This Dying. Whoever's Not Killed For Love Is Dead Meat.