Big Boss, you want people to know The way you tackle and deal with folks. Spread the wings: You want to play the hen And us you bid to play the chicks. You, Oh, devour praises like prey Feed on flatters just so to care. You’re a stainless pane, free of shames, Broiling conscious to stay intact. A gift is a gift that has not a mouth Knows not its name, and does not fraud. We’d lose our names If we lose this game. Our afterlife stories become the stairs; You’d ride them upstairs with ginger bread. The emptied cubicle, echoing your gabbing gab, Broods yellow lilies for the triumphant hair. --

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