Fool-hardy sail in dark weathers, reckless rail in bad weathers.
Engorge, filled with blood with pains and no help either.
Acceleration in which your deadly life depends.
Realism of a living dead.
...
Many more ride,
Along the tangle tied.
On my lonely Journey,
...
The quarter still remains dark, skin still remains black, out of the Negroes.
The elders still wish we could all be the black,
That of our fore elders.
...