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Black Legs in Success
Black Legs in Success
1 min
197
Success is a flower of Life,
Never plucks nor cuts with a knife,
Wake up my dried plant,
Bloom her for a good chant.
When gravels are out from path,
Then graves are ready to shout,
Magic of aim and life to success,
No graves shout, nor gravels out.
When it seems I lie,
No way found mere shy,
Even black leg make me dead,
To God ! By which hand I beg ?
In the house, where ever swings,
True praise and prays when wins,
The hidden feathers will fly,
Seek it and the world high.
Success passes hands and hands,
Fellow catch or holes in sands,
When life plays with us and does,
No name seek for Black legs in Success !
