My heart is bleeding; shedding tears,
For the nonchalance of mankind.
I'm the present Rip Van Winkle; right from my mind
In a generation of deaf ears.
Crippled able-beings rages the streets;
Wanting riches on a platter of gold,
Merrying and sowing deceit in the cold,
Whizz-kids not fond of clean-sheets.

Casanovas and Jezebels of many varieties
In quest of green pastures to own.
Brethren, stop playing rock, paper, and scissors
For all I say is the vanity of vanities.
Even those in the Sahara and Savannah have known
That the escape route is surrendering to Jesus.

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