An AFMCite Prayer

Oh supreme creator of the universe,
Giver of abundant blessings and the occasional curse
Do you know what's worse
Than being a product of your distorted humor,
And living like a greedy, ravenous tumor,
Carefully remembering grudges we nurse?
That situation is faced by four hundred odd lads,
Who left home-sweet-home, totally glad,
But now are unfortunately sad
Caught up in delusions about good and bad.

The monarchy-like state prevails,
In this place we would like to call a second home,
But due to circumstances, we leave that thought alone
Crippled we are,
Without our cars,
And the splendid sight of a fleet of motorbikes,
Hasn't been seen here since a long time,
As that is exactly what the monarchy dislikes
Soft, mad children getting expelled,
For watching the sacred act of love on a mobile cell,
Making out and fooling around
Would get you in a mess,
if red-handed you're found.

Out of bounds,
Is any behavior expected out of a red blooded hound
So turn around
And have a look at the women this place abounds with
But trust me,
You'd rather want to start a round of drinks,
So you can sit down and think,
But just then, fate's evil eye winks,
And caught you are with alcohol,
Derangement of senses is not tolerated at all,
Then goes a call at home,
Saying your son was caught having a ball

Fast forward at least three months into the future,
All you are left with is a bad attendance and a wounded reputation,
On the brink of important examinations.
Proxies and other goodies,
Are limited now, for people are moody,
Even the air snaps at you rudely
Stuck in a mess
With a headache in your ass
You fall asleep every night,
Without putting up a fight.

So oh supreme creator,
Deliver us from evil,
Make the monarchy realize,
That we have a breaking point, so it would be wise
To stop putting forth questionable claims and beliefs.
For a time shall come when we shall rise,
And someone will have to pay the price...

Amen