To the ancestors, we poured liquors
Not for the upper soils to drink rums
Our cultured wrappers are not that bored
I need an helper’s guide to stardom.
At times I wonder when help will come
For at the corner in my own Dom
I have grown smaller with my income
Causing high fever, so cumbersome
I am a river but empty drum
Yawning for helpers but the syndrome
Just seem so eager with the wisdoms
That never falters in worrisome.