The Coroner stands by your door
No sure what the Corona intended
He has come to count
What the ugly sweeping hand is doing
To this the beautiful world
A vulture awaiting on your souls
A silence that sneaks into the world
A new world choke-held by lockdowns
and panic buyings
Curfews in the age of globalisation
What a contradiction!!
The Corona knows no fed tummy
His hunger is infinite
He cares not for the bones
Of hungry little kids
Protruding from their worn torn garbs
He is hungry, feed him
He has no use for your piles of toilet paper
He must be feed
Wash your hands, drink vinegar
But who will disinfect the soul?
From this menacing world and its anguish
Feed the Corona, feed him some more
For the Coroner must get to work
Its almost morning
The Crown is calling
(written during the pandemic )
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