Antisocial Humanitarian
I only worship at my own altar
I do not even go to nightclubs
I do not even know the Kaaba
Or kneel for a word of prayer
Not even a chant in the stadium
I do not even like talking to others
When I do
It always comes back to me, Karma
I feel stressed to see a banker
Its even worse with doctors
Unless I am dying, Nirvana
and my lips are all chapped
That's when I call for mother
To heal me rebirth me
Madonna, Miracle worker
What kind of man? I wonder
But my poems are a way to reach ya
Hold your hand, touch ya
Share myself, appreciate ya
Show my dirt, entertain ya
Heal your heart, medicate ya
Share my thoughts, Liberate ya
Make you like me, Imitate ya
It is always with love, I seduce ya
And when your are lost, Calibrate ya
So without going Further
I do this for you with care
If you find it in you return a favour
For an Antisocial Humanitarian
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