I mock seeing you amazed. Insane are they though they be glad The world already on the race track, started just as you behave You, the marron doomed by the fate I hasten ahead, since I do hate Success, prosperity as they might have dreamt about you, Boomed and doomed in real has happened upon you Destined by the luck, overwhelmed with the jests Crawling and creeping, griming on your steps You feel high even being obsessed Gaol is that place I call without haste Sledging on you, as they are the one I hate the best. My country, would you have had a man for you to breathe; Sure, I would have rested in the peace with the mighty grace!!
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