Your tongue like lead shoots the stars; mould
Their asses On fire, but the fire in their hearts have grown bigger;
Your knowledge is the dyed motif of magnanimity,the new
Memory fills milk and magma in our guards;
We drink them to our collective nourishment- and for love, when
Our social cord is connected by your solomonic reasoning.
So that the profligate will have their bellies dewormed of treasury,
We will blunt their teeth too, grown grey with the grime of greed,
We will take away the perious poison from the grain of their skin,
For this land they must reconstruct with concrete and slab
For the love of countrymen to prevail in the fields of plenty.