The world conspires to help me succeed in life
honored, I bask in the opulence of such wealth
egregious, it seems for a beggar from Bombay
whatever, 'Mumbai', the nationalists, they thrive
on backwards motion, appeals to a Hindu past
remember, I grew up casteless, so to my health
living has been good, so far, "knock on wood," they say
despite what you think or believe, the gods have ears
conditioned to hear every word, a net they cast
only to listen for fun, to disrupt the flow
not of industry but of the offhand remark
singled out to show their sense of irony, slow
people don't catch on, they remain without a spark
in which the gods turn up the heat, stoking up fears
resulting in dread of the unknown, no worries
everything in due time and order, for they say
stillness makes suckers of monks in meditation
to the dismay of adherents whose flurries
of activity, to no effect, serves no balm
hindering progress in all realms of Old Bombay
each and every day, I pray for contemplation
linger on the truth, the tongues of flames, manifest
presently in waves, as each event passes, calm
marks my future plans, I follow in ease and grace
each step honors gods and humanity, wretches
sufficient in lies, to help disguise the false face
unseen by the blind but heard as the truth stretches
crippled by the facts, troubled minds produce their best
carelessly and quick, half-ass endeavors they think
everyone accepts as work, as a job well done
everyone moves on but these hamsters on their wheels
despite their efforts, they never get to the brink
instead the lemmings leap in faith over the cliff
nothing deters them, not even death, so ends fun
legacy begins, the future is mine, time heals
ignorance and sweat, years wasted trying to win
fearsome battles, strange how I never caught a whiff
endlessly churned up of self-pity, scent of gin
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