And there he has to die for himself at abject poverty
Far from flunky folks as to who shall be blame
Who shall I echoes from shores of shrinelet of deity
Who shall I saunter at an evening out without shame
For their deathless fame, for an inanimate living soul
To life without faith at hand, from their fearless
Thought you couldn't imagine? From his fretless foul
Where he harm no one at most. For him he died helpless
For him he kept no one but faultless faith
For him shall anyone complain his cruelties?
He a roared figured of honesty from birth
With his simplicity to quashed hunger at difficulties
I had nothing doth but to washed my hand off him
Where his soul sparks as a giant gem