Baskadia

All of my perceptions wield the flag of destruction,

My neighbors with the luxury home of perfection,

So! Yes, I'll do a thousand and thousand objections,

Because my life is running out of perfection

Oh! I'm writing a book of complaints 

In a coliseum; I risk but fall to demote,

So how did my friend gain a victory vote?

I'm just driving on the road of Erode,

What an insane trek on which I rode, 

So, I'm writing a book of complaints

I've just not seen the fire flame,

But I did discern the fire extinguisher to tame,

But instead of becoming a hero in that game,

Perhaps! The easier way to put the blame, 

Oh! Complaints are giving me such pain.

My sight was on the riders of the golden train,

with a weary sigh, oh! I return to the violet garden of my fain,

But I realized, my unconcern ruined it all again,

Too much rain was not but grumbling was my pain.

Alas! This book of complaint.

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