The relay man
He never stays in one place
He goes running
There is no fixed place
He puffs and puffs
Hands stretched out
Holding the baton
He runs on again
Along the way
He brews his toxicity
Telling he knows so many
The past and present history
He talks until he drowns himself
Listening to his own echo
Have you seen the relay man?
He has no backbone; he has no principle
He knows how to stretch his hands
He wants to get the baton
So he can run again
He talks about blaming game
He brews cold tea on plots and twisting facts
He is just the running dog
Thinking of his bone every day
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