I mock seeing you amazed.
Insane are they though they be glad
The world already on the race track, started just as you behave
You, the marron doomed by the fate
I hasten ahead, since I do hate
Success, prosperity as they might have dreamt about you,
Boomed and doomed in real has happened upon you
Destined by the luck, overwhelmed with the jests
Crawling and creeping, griming on your steps
You feel high even being obsessed
Gaol is that place I call without haste
Sledging on you, as they are the one I hate the best.
My country, would you have had a man for you to breathe;
Sure, I would have rested in the peace with the mighty grace!!
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