O thou the god of all the useless voice
We pray to thee—a song without a choice
With all the murm’ring sounds in high and low
How right or wrong yet we must always bow
How can a blinded sire unify
The land of children playing hide-and-seek
See how thy given rights could satisfy
Thy thirst of sweets from those you always flick
lupatanggalnya, paruh I 2011
