WO (3 february 1995 / lagos)

Michael Jackson

Worshiped by the eyes of time
Like a flower just in its prime
On the slender stem of fame
Well-carried, the petals radiated as light came.

Amid the soaring birds and the creeping snail, it cried for long
Listening and Touched by the aggrieved Earth's song.
Like a glittering star alive this night
Shiny, sparkling and splendidly bright
But for one moment of grief
One moment of darkness, everlasting not brief
Leaving a bitter taste on the tongues
In sourness then flows the rhythm of the songs
Of immortality, this dead voice has fought the wars
Long live the moon-walking shoes on polished floors,
Floors of art, floors of hearts

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