The
frogs keep quiet
They
don't want to say as much
Out
of funds waiting for the green
Before
they open their eyes to start to preach
Under
the green pond
The
sun rays penetrating deep
Occasionally
the popping heads
They
think it is time to croak
The
water lily acts as a leverage
The
frogs hide cooling under the pond
The
heat waves brushing it along
The
frogs wait for the call
They
never know their future
They
have sold their souls for silver coins
The
shining golden colours of reflection
They
regret when they signed the deed
Now
the frogs wait
The
season of croaking will begin
They
are prepared to come out
When
the road is cleared so they will
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