Cycle of Conflict

Whenever we meet face to face,

There's weapons in our hands.

Always the subject of our meeting,

Ownership of western lands.


Must we dwell on differences,

Can from conflict we refrain?

Can't we find some similarities,

Some things that are the same?


Perhaps there can be harmony,

But now on plains we fight.

Both under the light of sun,

And the gaze of night.