Humans will never be in charge of this world, as long as dust and weeds do as they please.

Like the magnolia tree, She bends with the wind,Trials and tribulation may weather her, Yet, after the storm her beauty blooms, See her standing there, like steel, With her roots forever buried,Deep in her Southern soil.

Ain’t nothing too serious. Even death is a joke on the old devil, if we are living for the Lord.