They brood around proclaiming ‘I am the head’ And the the weaker cells are deprived the power to teach them authority

But they forget not his onus, A child wails all her life

Just for the quest to survive

Because he turns numb to his duties.

The so-called fathers

Souls are wailing for blood and daily bread for your neglect.

He has left them on the forlorn fields just to enjoy his exile rejecting the pledge of future leaders

The so-called fathers

These souls strive to survive and they are garnished with foul voices

They wish for a sound sleep but the echoes of the past keep nagging away their yawns

The souls

They vow to alter the history in the Morrow

So their eggs will scribe unto them the joy of obtaining a wise head

The souls…