[Ill_ban_myself]

God bless the grass that grows through cement. It's green and it's tender and it's easily bent. But after a while it lifts up its head, For the grass is living and the stone is dead

God bless the grass that's gentle and low, Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow. And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor, And the wild grass growing at the poor man's door.