I do not like a fatal blow,
I would never get tired of life!
I donít like any time when Iím low,
When I am sick, or losing my drive.
I do not like cold cynical traits,
Neither believe I in thrill.
I donít like when one of my mates
Reads all my mail, standing still.
I do not like anything slack,
Or when a conversationís cut short.
I donít like a stab in the back,
Nor like I a point-blank shot.
I hate gossips, rendered as tales,
Opium of praise, torments of doubt,
Or when itís always against the grain,
Or metal-on-the-glass-like sound.
I do not like the righteous self-regard,
I prefer if one blows his stack.
Alas, the word ďhonourísĒ in disregard,
And people honour talks behind your back.
When I get to witness broken wings,
I feel no sympathy for the demise,
As I respect neither bullies nor wimps,
Yet, I do feel for the crucified Christ.
I hate myself if Iím too scared
To stand up when innocents being hurt.
And I donít like if I am unprepared
When my soul gets smudged with dirt.
I do not like big arenas or fields,
Where millions are tallied with a dime.
All the great changes the future yields
Will never change my mind!