I need to uproot that tree,
the weeds are burning fire,
and there's this belief,
and barbed red cold wire.

And passion's aghast the wall,
whose fist is fighting for,
and bricks are smashed
in like wild demolition.

And a grain is worthy,
of only one poured glass,
and I bet its filthy
unlike this lovely lass.

Demons are salty spice,
contains shaky rice,
a pack of mi goreng
eases pain of dark sing.

A lover lies in my bed,
savoury and the wine,
like freshly baked bread
and a scent so fine.