• Towards two creeks that collide
    A wind that runs through a third
    Seven wonders, seven rivers
    Nothing in a lake I find absurd
    Ducks coated in furry brown
    Swimming down the falls
    Being sailed by the rivera of the winds
    Almost like marching through fancy halls

    A drop of the golden sun
    A drop of the clear blue sky
    When two of these meet
    A new generation starts to fly
    Golden flowers running down lakes
    Walking on sweet-scented grass
    The seven rivers that collide
    A new world forms, places will be in mass