Nothing make more sense,
Than his always on-hand bottle.
Nothing muscles more strenght,
Than the liquid content of his green bottle.
Nothing stops his pace’s escape between space,
Not even his soaked face can ‘normalcy’ talk to.
It triggers-off his truthfull and semi false stream.
In his words,
‘A man is never drunk of what one didn’t force him,
Unless two convince him,
That he is a drunkard.
Adindu’s news is more than the population’s,
Jumping life’s fence,
Constantly causing troubles,
And pitching persons against their own personality,
Asking that they be judged by posterity.
Daring to hang his lie,
And its taste for the green bottles,
Should they ever get discharged of the crime of polluting ‘imiri uwa’ the local river.