For seven hours I was dead
Dead in my Luxury lord's bed
I did not care of weather or bread
Life Lynchs me, she's so rude
I turned left to the wrath of hell
I must tell you, hell is already here
My flesh cozy but my soul yell
This is the earth that we do share
I had said Kamar is nothing but a myth
I am twice correct But today we meet
Call the priest who collects my tithe
Should I be blind after I paid for sight
The poor man, honey do pour
His healthy heart in tattered coat
The rich man, stings do pour
His thorny heart in costly coat
I stole from myself, the truth
For I am blind of the lamb birth
I chose the Golden crown of earth
For I am sightful of the lustful fruit
I woke up to the man in the mirror
Tears roll his eyes while I smile
Seven hours and it was lemon without fresh lime
Sour and bitter saint of the carcass in the mirror
©Kuvar