There's Hoffen

There would be tomorrow,

But might not include us.

Hold on to the rope of hope,

Jump! but fall not,

Hope on, the rope is on.

There might be no tomorrow,

Maybe not for us,

Music by the sad man on the crutches,

Last words of the dying dinosaur,

Hope of the Ostrich, aspiring to fly.

There's tomorrow, and it's certain;

For the dwarf that reach the height of grace,

For the rich man's pretty maid,

For the blacks in white skin,

There's hope, but in disguise.