(Dedicated to the god of Canaan land)
To my brother standing on the tabernacle of doom
Calling and waiving still in your senseless hum
Holding the satanic microphone of salvation.
True divine blessings come … without deprivation.
Though you speak in tongues but can’t feel the thorn
Tormenting your bloods that teems in million.
I said you might stand on the alter and did proclaim
But mere groaning souls beneath, you can not claim.
Each blessed day you bless a thousand blessed souls
And the accursed souls gather round your useless soles.
Though worldly investment brings worthwhile dividend
But the investment in the people is the blessing that never end.
The sun shines on us all despite our different hearts
It is but a godly and golden mind that can conquer hearts.
Oh! God, the things that are bounded under the cover of your name
I mean those things that are parted behind the tenuous facade of your name
If you hadn’t open the eyes of our minds to see and see
We would have been drowned in the deceptive billow of their sea.
And as we stand to watch the malignancy in their dreadful looking
Coupled with the benign patience of their innocent brooking
Still we aren’t certain. No! We are certain
We are no longer kids, so we’ve known the godly and devilish terrain.
We have known the devil’s allies in whiter garments
We have seen under the green grass, the greener serpents.
The greedy goblin in a race of piling and compiling
He’d forgotten that life never goes unending.
So, Standing on the alter does not make one whiter
And eating the Holy Communion doesn’t bring one nearer.