To Kurt
To be here and watch you all
No matter weather big or small
Your race to win and stand tall
To gain , how much they can fall
The tiny spark of old
Has consumed you for your hold
Now you want to beat me in the race
Dont worry I will give up with all the grace
If challenged you threat of blood or gold
Oh what wicket devil has you on his hold
And here I am stuck in the queue
To break free from it, chances are few
And there they are playing God
While together they all fought
Against their own brothers and sisters
Too please the bloody ministers
Roby
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