Has it ever known peace, this sad and beautiful land.
Can you count the stars in the sky, the grains of sand on a beach. Can you hear a voice in the infinite Sea of Words unleashed by an age of digits and silicon.
Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood and stablisheth a city by iniquity.
As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.