Let my roof become your visible sky!
I fiddle its song with my astute eye
I am no loser to humbly vacate my lands
The invasive rot, I sweep off with my hands!
You can see the entire universe has my breath in its pores
There comes a point, when I refuse to do the chores!
It’s time that I call on the raging bull that finally gores
this world’s encumbering evil, and settles all my scores!
The hurricane has only one discerning eye, and no sigh
It must spell its doom on every towering lie
Are the deserving with me, to restore my ties?
That evil one must be flung so far that we can’t ever hear his cries!
The rendition in my ears, and my soul, is mine O mine!
I never did suggest earlier that I was Godly divine
For to speak the truth must take its patient time
So, that the evil deep-sea Prakash Saint Paul can’t manipulate it with his crime!
I don’t want democracy; I don’t want its hypocrisy!
I am the one to pronounce who are kings; what I don’t want should be made history!
I know all my constellations; I know what I desire!
I’m warning Allah and deep-sea fish; you risk my ire by playing with my fire!
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