Submitted By: John "The Beloved" Ajewole
In this world there is none you may count upon,
Each man to himself is drawn
Living alone behind the wall of his Babylon
Just himself, nursing a hope of none.
We're all strangers in this world,
Each man has his hand shut,
To others but opened only to his own dreamworld
Why? In-case his plans may be furled
Friends for-ever, hard to find
Easy to say, later stabbed in the behind
Everyone, individually defined
Each one with a countersign
Who would you befriend in the time of need
Who would care when you bleed
Such counsel I give thee-now, take heed.
Help thyself, or soon be autopsied.
© John "The Beloved" Ajewole - August 5, 1999
Guides
