To Martin Gore

I fell to listen to the God
And here is what I heard from him -
He told by rhymes, made stops by drums
His easy words made me to think

For me the God became existing
I convert to love the art
The art of poem, the art of sending
Thoughts to spread to crowd

I dream my words will have been spoken
That flows to melody of man
And I'll be heard and I'll be talking
About that rhyme that took my breath


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