When the traditional healer, one time,
Way back in time,
Passed foul air,
To the consulting heir
Of the Kingdom of Zamunda,
It was intorned, that it was part,
After all of the medicine,
He had come to pick..
And park,
Good luck!
Life is but a genaral drama,
Blowing and glowing at free will,
Like the moments in Switzerland,
When the snow capped Alps,
And the white water fauntains in L. Geneva,
Turned red,
That sad windy winter morning,
People begun to mourn,
For the demise of the man of God..
When the soul of a person moves out,
The body, is but a shell,
Waiting to sail,
Days, minutes, seconds get numbered,
Human fate succumbs,
Death the calamity of life..
