FROM THE SOUL THROUGH TO THE SOLE.
I concur with the conqueror....
Implore the plaudits of the emperor...
Gallantly galvanizing gorges of gloom into luscious lanes where the light of victory looms...
Seperewa, beat yourself from the bosomtwe monsoon..
Adinkra, do justice and our insane ways gently prune...
Whether cripple or endowed with waltzing feet that can dribble through a maze...
Life pokes our eyeballs with a solitary riddle...
Life batters your wits..ever so brittle..
Life puts us on the field for a common battle..
Sensual suffocating careless caresses...
Adorn our stiff necks with sweat beads in their excesses...
Obra ni wo ara bo! Sow on the land that grows your needs..
And then rid your wheat stalks of thorn reeds..
Because the farmer will inevitably split the pods..
Then you would have to justify the divinity of your self-created gods!
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