Hey! Look, it's me! Not at verge nor for your mercy, and certainly not at urge. I too dream a presidential hope. To ideate a creation from deep kaleidoscope. From within my ingenuity, I colour the skies of Aurora. I know how far I can go to challange the Zeus' Pandora.
Look! It’s me, not a roadside verge. You may think to not to merge. For I too think no life in you. To create a stanza, for rhythmic tempo needs to beat a super-hit, but it cannot be the you, so off you go, shoo shoo.
And hey, it’s me! Not at verge but about to center a time of surge. Where you'll see chants of my people. My pride-vibrant in glory of ripples. Lights and flashes, stages that sounds to see of my last at Turin another shroud.