Where are the men of peace, they have fled and leave our sons to bury our dead. Where are they those learned fools whos preaching sermons lead our sons to far off lands not their own. Those lands afar there in that far off country our sons fought, bleed and died now have foreign soil above their heads. Oh indeed where are you now, you-gentlemen fine our sons lie dead- While you fine gentleman-defile our daughters so forgive me-if I-spit upon and curse the vary ground you walk. So gentlemen-your indemnity be-dammed, speck not to me-of your grace- For those brave boys that lie neth foreign soil had more grace then you shall ever know! Do not speck to me for I do not here your words for you might just as well talk to stone; and at the end of your days I shall not morn your loss since rock has more place in the world then you. So once again, I-ask where are the men of peace? They are not here for they have fled, as for me-I-am just an echo of all that was, that is and will be. I am the voice of the winds of ages remember us so we dont-pass from history in to the dark of night that is oblivion. I am everywhere and nowhere just know-Im there.

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