They sat at inner-core,
The young eyes spot them at outer-core,
When they shine as a fresh star.
The young mind counted all the stars
Of prosperity, to serve the pants.

The young hand dig the core,
With full of beans.
Many ways to kill a cat,
The stones were caught with no magic.

The rain is pouring for the stones.
The hands are shining like the stones.
Only smilling assassinators frown.
Eyes brows were raised.