When we heard the roar of guns and cannons on one Christmas morning;
When our Homeland was subtracted from sweetness and divided by soothing blackness;
When peace and love departed us, while the mourning showers poured;
How soon, it became clear enough, that nothing else was necessary;
Than our bluish clear sky and our sweet birds in their nests, somewhere southwest.
How soon, it became clear enough, that peacewill hunting and love;
Was the little act we had to pull, else our heads would join the count at the Cemetery.
So here we lie, in the war front between hate and peace.
Hunting for the love that makes the world go round,
Around the Round of Music and Sound of Peace.
Peacewill Hunting catalysed by a nostalgia for our once happy Homeland.
And a bid to restore our hopes and dreams from dreamland and hopeland.
So while we hunt, we shall watch and pray,
For a day when the sounds of guns and cannons shall cease, imagine such a day.