Do you think I love to free-verse my hate?
There is no organisation of rhythm when black
and white is a collocation of evil plugging the words;
I think all your lyric may have come from a deceitful
prick! And I am no mere trick of a magic!
But would you believe that even God learned to despise?
When? Do you ever surmise that God has too much
trouble? So, trouble be with you all in reflection?
Because would you all have fantasised over an eyesore?
I don’t have my feet in graves! He (evil) stepped out of the waters
to take your lands! Did you all feel raped or blessed?
A wishmaster believes you are all his whores!
If I could have cared less, I could just about
have turned you all over to him. His desperation
profligates, and what does it compel? My perseverance?!
I am a master of device, but whose connivance is design?
Just let me remind you all that I am no party to the party!
And you see that in all my trouble; I am not mere Prince of Denmark;
and my mother is no mere Gertrude. And you can’t just think
I am green for a Queen! I have known my Goddess is also victim;
But I am not going to be damned if you all turn out as
treachery’s smiling damned villains!
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