A prime invention of mankind
Born from the moist womb of necessity

Its hand on the sceptre of the world

Slowly,but furtively it became

The zenith of dreams

The rock on which our lust stands

Its power beyond limits seen

We the creator are bowed in its majesty

Our knees bent to revere this Lil god

Blood and guts come to dine at its table

Cowards and Sicilians in a fit of hustle

All to be the ultimate servant to this tyrant

Only a few gets its embrace

The rest are fed its spittle and vomit

Yet they still crawl in adulation

Cuz they are deep in love with the power paper

Its height of desire in us

Gone above the clouds

Its size than that of a thousand Pacifics

And yet we can get enough

For in as much as we sired this forbidden child

We remain slaves to it



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