The third one was born alive
the second one so and so
the first let's forget about him.

Nobody said it'd be easy
to tread on this land of discomfort
to walk among throngs of discordants.

The first day he thought rain was sunshine
the second he drank from the pond
the third one he picked all the flowers

and wiped off his tears with their leaves
and lay on the petals till sunset
and muttered a hushed angry cry.

The heavens came down at his outrage
they asked him the cause of his fear
they asked him to stand and draw near

he looked upon God as a madman
he looked down at God as a fly
he looked and God could not reply.

The men in the fields are still fighting
the woment are scratching their eyes
the  rivers run dry to the mountains
and the third born knows his brothers were wise.