Sold Out Soul
What a selfish man I am, without any bones,
What I have is nothing but farce
Bought up in an hot bigheaded pan,
Cooked better than an oven in the make,
Essence of ego, hatred and anger mixed to the brim,
Dressed with a poisonous smile in the front,
Served to the world in a three piece suit,
My mission is to quadruple the wealth of the lot,
Brains are to function and not the heart
Otherwise called as a technical fault
Thunder and lightning came from the top
What’s the use of brains down here?
Profound rains washed me from the scene,
Only better suits hang upped there.
In the street, into the blue
Strolling to the hut I saw ahead,
Hailed by the noble who stood at the door,
He said ‘welcome the smug who sold his soul’
To my shame I saw a crowd,
They said you are not the first and even the last.
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