By Merie Prosper
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After God he comes
At his sight evil slumps
He wields the holy book
Flawless fabrics buries his glowing look
He is one who had not known thirst
He has never known dearth
He is papa
Umpires the holy number
The mighty are published to the fore
The lack unmoved almost at the door
They have given their barely visible estate
They say heaven will change their state
papa learnt them
Up is their estate that is papa 's anthem
In the end papa is wheeling
Backbenchers are hardly homing
Backbenchers suffer for their sins
papa is clean
He sees beyond vision
But he doesn't see my nutrition
He does not toil like the hen
But his den
Like the dwelling of tax spender
Lets live for judges yonder