By 
And so begins the dearth of an illustrious soul
And the presence that makes others whole
So he’s complained of a wretched growth
But his heart is still up to his throat
Because he’s a prisoner in this forlorn world
She made him think he was the bee’s knees
And his ego grew like a forest of trees
Hey, look he’s glad he called him the fox’s socks
But there was a part of him he always knew that sucks
Because he’s a prisoner in this forlorn world
The man remains a lone ranger
Among his friends he remains a stranger
Brainy, smartie, in his absence no party
They were all skills from his friends who were crafty
Because he’s a prisoner in this forlorn world
He’s died a thousand deaths
And lost a million bets
His rhythm hasn’t been paused
But he feels he’s bitten the dust
Because he’s a prisoner in this forlorn world
Ileme Sochukwuma Joseph