THE PLIGHT OF THE MAD MAN
I am your dirty, stinky eternal outcast
You boast of piety yet you are the contrast
You call me a mad man for that's all you can
I pray you see your face by the time I'm done
In your careless, selfish minds you harbour no guilt
You preach cleanliness and yet the maker of all the filth
Truth may be bitter but medicinal to gulp
It’s a shame you cannot tidy your own conscience up
Rubbish! Who makes them in the first place?
How do you expect this thorny garden to be like a glowing palace?
Where the housefly is no longer a pest but become like a melodious pet
Where the mosquitoes orchestrate tuneful sounds the ears can’t ever forget
Where I'm no longer the smelly and aggrieved mad man
You; no longer being the hypocritical, selfish noisy can
But of course you are too ashamed to smear dirt on yourself like me
Yet you litter them around, still claiming to be dirt free
If abnormality is going contrary to the moral norms of society
Then among us, who has a twisted abnormal mentality
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the craziest of us all
On the score of lunatic excellence who deserves the golden ball
You leave home to ease yourselves in the mouth of the wailing shore
In the same lips inside which you delightfully explore
Madness! At least unlike you, I don’t eat my own shit
Even the cat knows to bury the outcasts of its stomach in a pit
The thought of your mental orientation is what makes me confused
If picking up rubbish is madness then about you; I ought to be amused
You are your own enemy
Cholera is barking and cleanliness is your only remedy
A motivated astute deed in indeed a good deed
Some have planted already; it’s now up to you, to water the fragile seed
Must God come down from heaven and beg you to be clean
Unless of course, you are of the devil who has ever been mean
Yes I said it, what can you do; that you haven’t done to cause this taboo
If you can put away your pride, we can all fight this eclipsing tattoo
Your negligence makes mother Earth sad
I guess it pays to go a little mad