Help Your Next Man, ljóð frá 12. desember 2019.

Not so easy, needing what?

Neither one could righter stand.

See her strict and strut,

still I'm convinced not.

How the body's left for vultures vile,

ways are full and guile.

Be that nothing but,

bitterness and not so grand.

 

See, I'm only, ever gone,

if you lost that greatness too.

Other worlds, a while,

we then going on...

Earthly bound when all is worthless clay...

if they have their say...

Still it's not my style,

strolling back, the right to do.

 

Find the mistakes made, the past,

must be learned and bettered there.

Worth so much, this man,

maybe even best!

Still it made the life so rich and lush,

like the ones that blush...

Getting that again,

gliding water, running fare...

 

Coffeehouses, coffins last,

care not further, shallow hal.

Millions made, he can,

(must be in the past).

Help your next man, Heaven greedy calls,

(how it always falls!)

Follow me then fan,

first we make it better, pal.