Raising chickens at the backyard
And they think I am their God.
But a day when I cannot work anymore,
I can just pick one up and devour to make my stomach
Growling stop.
And I am telling the neighbors that I love them,
That I raised them with mercy,
They pretend to believe it or possibly believe it.
In any case, the chickens are going to die.
Freewill is an illusion.
I preach about a fair world,
And the newspapers tell where the world is wrong.
But I am not going to do my part.
I am not going to set them free.
I have fears.
My children, I tell them I did much for them.
Good thing they don’t question
Or curse me for bringing them to the world,
To face the battle of salvation and damnation
And to live to save my false pride.