By Tikum Mbah Azonga
I know what you want
It`s the last of the apple gates
That`s why you`re here
But where`s your outer gear?
Did you leave it on the train
Or did you sell it for a penny?
I know why you rant
You`re dreaming of the United States
Wishing that you retired there
Yet to you your apple gates are dear
What if suddenly it begins to rain?
Won`t you then be filled with envy?