A poor, beautiful boy in a lonely hole
Spent his whole life learning from a wise old mole
His father owned no home except a secret no one knows;
So, he sold his soul to the devil and paid what was owed.
The boy lost all hope in the hole but still prays
For anything that could change his days, and says,
“Lord, take this pain away and send me an angel today, please”
The mole heard him pray and lay down but wasn’t displeased.
They’ve always shared their lazy, hopeless lives at day
And their solemn, gloomy, and hazy nights on hay,
Where they hear scary sounds and see nothing except rays of light
His play toy made of grains and clay breaks many times.
“I’m worse than dead!” the boy hits his head on the wall
“You misled me to believe what you read from Paul.”
“I was blind from birth, no one taught me how to read or survive,”
quips the mole who hears dead men speak and cries when the crows lie.
The boy felt cold winds blow through his bones and nerves
As the mole told old stories that no one ever heard
The boy’s father died with a note he wrote for him in cold blood,
“Die on your feet than live on both knees, my son.”
“Hurray!” he leapt so high, holding the old love note
Both hands pulled off the dark cloud above their home
Alas, he saw souls with low morals in those he hoped to become;
A heartless and unjust world where bondage means freedom.