They wait and pray for an unknown angel,
An angel who breeds loads of pennies.
In those picketing dreams they see their angel
With the jingling and glistening pennies.
"The hand-to-mouth existence" of which they might have learned;
Is the only option left for some.
The others whose parents spend the pittance they'd earned,
Upon those efforts with just no out come.
With heavy hearts which lack consciences,
They play their parts in crowded streets
In public places they offer services,
Which cause the cops reach banging heats.
In the elecrtion-summer they get some sweets,
That make them trapped through their ecstatic senses
And of course they've to pay for those sweets,
With a cross that makes them forever losers.
There's no difference in the final outcome,
Cause both parties get a hearty laugh.
Though the company gets no income
The rates and statistics remain high
There lies the wonderful verity
Hidden in an unidentified global network
The company marked in the history of humanity
Expands further like a divine woodwork
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