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Fourteenth inked where soldiers fell,
Fifteenth rose from battle’s hell.
Three-letter gang of ghosts in hoods,
Turned holy ground to burning woods.

Quiet fields whisper through time,
Ashes bloom from freedom’s mines.
Fire fades but the embers stay,
Peace was born from war’s decay.

The drums are gone, but echoes stay,
The past still roams where children play.

The North woke up with truth in mind,
But every cause leaves ghosts behind.
The South still prays through cotton’s dust,
Afraid their roots they would have lost.

The river runs with silver light,
It carried grief through endless night.
Now children play where smoke had grown,
Still the past won’t leave’s alone.

The drums are gone, but echoes stay,
The past still roams where children play.

We swore one flag against the crown,
For a hundred years we built this town.
The stars and stripes fly through the haze,
The bell will sing when peace arise.

Kneel by the banks where mercy flows,
The Lord still counts the seeds we sow.
Light bends low through sadly way,
Peace breathes high another day.

The rain will fall for many days,
Till peace grows strong in many ways.