What makes us Human?
Definitely not the blood coursing through our veins
Or, the flesh that makes us petty and vain
So, what then I ask in God's name?
For I can't understand how we walk on the streets 
And see the lame
Yet, with every kobo we get so strict and hide our treats
To the miserable Dame.
We ask for good things, they pray for the same
With every wrecked limbs, they hope God will hear someday.
So, they look to us
The mighty in their eyes
Yet, we have so little hearts
That giving to receive becomes a legendary myth.

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