Could have been born a sultan, could have been born a slave
But here I am with no kingdom, no clay master bound to enslaved
Did not ask to be but blessed here I am
Squinting at the sun soon to return to sand

Beneath naked trees contemplating the master plan
Praying I can live up to my creators selected demands
I can sense the end is near
As I marvel at the pagans with no fear
To me it seems all so clear
Yet so many opposed to what I revere
To be sacred
So much hatred
There is a reason why I presently can't escape it
Will I have to be saved from it?

Bathing in my own rage
As the deceivers take center stage
Parading in fallacious masquerades
Striving not to regress to my old ways
In these last night, in these last days
Bestowing upon me mercy and lacing me with pain
To remind me of my purpose beyond riches, women and fame
That over my soul no man, beast or jinn has power to rein
Save only the One, the Dominant, Sender of the shame
Who expels every single drop of refreshing rain
Patron of the sustenance from which you sustain
Did not have to be but temporarily here able to remain
Able to complain
Able to blame
Able to gorge and able to refrain

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