I’ll tell you of many sacred voices
About life’s inclinations on the maps
Of many’s wants and needs,
The laments and cursing of the pains
That makes their eyes the cloudy skies of A long overdue rain
I’ll tell you of many self-death sentences
Where one makes himself a scarecrow,
Aligned and dangling by the road side,
Elevating the wishes of many yonder
To give up immortality and live the life
Another took away
I’ll murmur to your hearing the mournful songs
That heralded the night zephyrs,
Disturbing the peace of the birds that only loved the sounds of the Christmas carol songs,
For I was also a crooner in the choir of wailers,
Before I lost my voice to the course of sanity and honor
Son, not only the brave survive life
The patient also feeds from the same table
Walk not the path of the scornful
When life feeds you with tons of sewagefrom its bin,
Even the smiles on my face holds no true form
Of the wants of my heart
