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Now go and look for the dejected once proud |
|
Idol remembered in stone, aloud |
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Then on coins his face was mirrored |
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Take a look it soon, hath slithered |
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To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad |
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His nourishment extract from his subjects |
|
That mass production profile |
|
He's a god in, in an alcove |
|
Once he spread the rain |
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So they dreamt in vain |
|
Once he spread the wheat |
|
Had made some 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 ohh 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 little alcove |
|
All alone |
|
He's a god, a god |
|
Now I am silly |
|
Now I am silly |
|
Silly |
|
Silly |
|
Silly, silly, silly |
|
Silly |
