๐•‹๐•™๐•ฃ๐•–๐•–. ๐•‹๐•™๐•š๐•ฃ๐•ฅ๐•ช ๐•†๐•Ÿ๐•–. ๐•‹๐•จ๐•–๐•Ÿ๐•ฅ๐•ช ๐•†๐•Ÿ๐•–.

Oh, my Spiritual King,

I cannot wait until the day they hear you sing,

Fascinated by none of the material things,

Abundant in all my beliefs and dreams,

Non reactive, Iโ€™ve mastered my scream,

In fear of none of your immortal flings.

Like coffee with no cream,

Aware I am not everybodyโ€™s โ€œthingโ€,

So away, I quickly swing,

Worry no more of the inner g I bring,

I guess youโ€™re still too blinded by my bling.

Why do you not see a reflection King?

Your identity to the past,

Will continue to cast,

All the darkness to come to light,

By me, Beloved allows nothing to past.

So, I raise my glass in love,

Asking all my angels above,

To continue to shove,

Their fist full of love,

In your face.

Here is to Moore.

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