Mountain, so heavy, pressed into the Earth,
Rocks die, turn to diamonds, they know not their worth,
Grapes gathered in barrels and crushed till they weep
turn into the wine that the wise-man drinks deep,
To forge a strong sword first the metal must melt,
Liquid turns to solid then blows must be dealt,
Soft sand of the ocean, abused little shells,
are broken made base to the endless sea swell

My question to you now, is it worth all the pain
to face all the pressure or is it all in vain?

At the end of it all some diamonds are too small,
The wine much too bitter, the sword much too tall
And as for the sand it’s too rough for the hands,
Too hot and too dirty for a person to stand