Trust involves the selection Of selfless service, the trust doesn’t Give back, but, the words do Except they are shallow as the lack of good feelings Needed to touch many Shading on the mandatory need of money Not knowing the language and speaking the streets The crime is on the mouth of everyon blessing the violence We could get back to the crying dove that passes natural selection Doing unusually well in ushering in a new world That fills me with purpose and sets my gaze on graceful waves Like whips stuck to a chain of wounds
Crimson tide crash like cashed in cheque Let’s chew our fire put out on the watered road We got the instant insurance of insanity Satiate this Saturday, of this planned daze Of planet haze on blue Fridays and black Sundays The colors are all gone with the raiders of lost amalgamating Service and Serengheti, dry as the served dessert Freedom fly with the name of God, and catch my life cut by wars and short by accidents due to shortcuts