It sits still,
In a benevolent instill,
Waiting for a distill,
That never ceizes to fristil.
Wait! the young man yells,
We have to ring the bells now,
The religious hour has arrived,
And we do not need gardens of vine.
We never anticipated for this madness,
We want justice not forgiveness,
Remember us as the youth of loudness,
Yet all we seek is happiness.
A cry is heard,
We only need a head,
So the mutilation can take place,
So what have we now?
The sea roars like thunder,
To alert a vendor about the plunder,
All we plead for is serenity,
Our screams have pierced nights