I am not saying, I am a saint
But when the atmosphere is noxious I know the scent,
The mitigation to this trend, I know to paint

I can see what those with eyes can’t see,
Behind the smoking mirror,
The trail to societal mutation,
Soon, the rain forest will turn to a desert,
The sea will soon die of thirst and hunger,
Soon, abomination will dine with kings,
And be married to princes and princesses,
The beginning of wisdom will be banished and compelled never to return,
Soon, holy matrimony will mutate into profane acrimony

This seed we’re sowing,
Will be the beginning of our end,
Its fruit will be our greatest nemesis,
From afar I could see its black genesis,
Let’s go back to the beginning,
When birds cry like birds,
When hardwork is a golden garment,
Which everyone strives to put on,
To the beginning when loyalty is undiluted


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