In barren lands there lay a stone Scorched by Sun, it sang alone Like waves from a broken sitar It hurt the wind to hide a scar Beneath the shade of the Toona Tree I smiled, I lived, I felt so free But distant hands stole my wood Left me bare, no shelter stood We hear your cry, stone of old Your pain, your song, your tale untold Roots will rise, and branches weave For those who grieve, for those who leave Night arose, it whispered a prayer Not to live, but to cease to care It spoke words that cracked its core Splitting wide, no soul could ignore At dawn, a cloud found grace Tears fell slow in soft embrace They rang like notes from a santoor No sorrow stayed, nor could endure We heard your cry, fierce and clear Your pain will shine, your voice will steer Roots will rise, and branches weave For those who grieve, for those who leave In a crack, they made their home Watered a seed, rewrote the tome A tree was born, consuming stone Forgotten grief, no longer alone We heard your cry, fierce and clear Your pain will shine, your voice will steer Hands will come, may lead astray But fear it not, we're born to play In the santoor, in the sitar They sing their notes through who we are In the shehnai, in the guitar They pour their hearts to heal our scars