Let the Mustangs run.
Hooves striking the dry prairie sand,
Dust and dirt fly up
The ripple of muscle and sweat
Stain the heavy air.

Let the Doves fly.
Feathers flap in rhythm to the heart
Beat each with each breath
Till the olive branch is reached
And peace be found.

Let the Lions feast.
Blood has been spilled
Twice, thrice and over again
From careless claws to thick-headed teeth
And yet history repeats.

Let the Mustangs,
the Doves, the Lions,
Let all souls be free.