Flying high not wanting to die
I wave my arms, but it's easier to glide.
Deep in the water, I'll probably drown, My limbs are rozen as if i were in the ground.
I move my legs, but it is easier to drift. Through the filters of life I feel myself sift.
I'll do well in the fires of Hell, although to the devil, my soul is not for sale.
I pray to God, but I have to say. The Prince of Darkness has had his way.
For all the effort in glory or vain, The toll is your soul to be collected some day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hmmm...very deep as well....hopefully collected upstairs! ..gotta be good though!