Your roots are tied to hate--

And you wonder why love doesn't grow.

You can wipe, wipe-wipe! the slate,

Or paint the surface a vibrant rose.

No matter how you dress the gate,

The roots of hate will show;

The heart inside will detonate,

And the leaves of love will blow,

Till all that's left is hate's dead weight,

Like skeletons buried in snow.

If your roots are tied to hate,

Love will never grow.

The only way to change your fate

Is for the roots to be exposed.