The Bawang crocodile and his kind
Whatever they roar it will not bring good cheers
They always think of their kind; race, religion and language
They are living in the cocoon shelf
They don't see the colours in brightness
They are afraid to mix it around
They are afraid they can't go to heaven
They should realize every one turns to ashes
We borrowed from the Earth
It is where all of us will return our debts
Until then we can't even reach the gate
If we don't have good deeds while we live here
The Bawang crocodile and his kind
They don't learn history but their own collections
Without history they can't move forward
This is where they are stuck in time warp
It is the back door to blame
The leaders are weak always on politics
They don't see the bad ways floating in their eyes
Because they are from the same group of flames
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