| Go and look for the dejected once proud | |
| Idol remembered in stone aloud | |
| Then on coins his face was mirrored | |
| Take a look it soon hath slithered | |
| To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad | |
| His nourishment extract from his subjects | |
| That mass production profile | |
| He's a God- in- in an alcove | |
| Once he spread the rain | |
| So they dreamt in vain | |
| Once he spread the wheat | |
| Had made garlands for his feet | |
| Until the lily poet of our times | |
| Horizoned on the line | |
| Love became the in theme then | |
| Opposing fakers thrice by ten | |
| Don't perceive his empty plea | |
| That redundant effigy | |
| He's a God- in- in an alcove | |
| Take in view his empty stool | |
| What's left is satin cool | |
| Clawing adornment for his crimes | |
| They saw they had to draw the line | |
| So they sent him far away | |
| So they sent him far away | |
| To a little alcove | |
| To a little alcove | |
| All alone | |
| He's a God, a God | |
| Now I am silly | |
| Now I am silly | |
| Silly, silly, silly, silly | |
| Silly |
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