The green will wither
As all short cuts seem to be
Without the real nourishments
Nothing will last longer
The crocodiles on land
Wanting to walk but fall
They will sing religious songs
Trying to hide their weaknesses
Sure they love the monies
They rooted for it quickly
They aren't going to swallow
The bad food in the swamp
The weak souls can be influenced
The crocodiles know the trick well
Using own religion to play in the mind
Many who are weak easily fallen victims
Because the green on short wave
Nothing will come out of it
It is the mark of sin doing the wrong way
It's better to lose than suffer in pain
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