Am I to you,
what you are to me,
the lighthouse structure
for the lost at sea,
the well built fortress
of a city under siege,
the prayer book
of a rambling pilgrim,
the green branch
of an olive tree?

Cause if I’m not,
I’d rather drown
than follow
these guiding lights I see;
destroy the fortress and
leave this city at God’s mercy;
I’d put
the prayer book aside
And decline
the olive branch
at once.