My rap.

Crazy hearts, whacky hearts, insane hearts, heartless hearts,
Dumped in sorroundings, dancing on alcoholic crafts,
Seemless to say, till we feed on the humourous artefact,
The hip hop was all Freedom Writers, seldomly symphonically intact.

Remember when Green Day became greener by the sides,
The WHO wasn't worried, because they didn't use pesticides,
Sculptures of angels in the Vatican have cerebral peripherals, if you see,
Yet to believe, Anneliese Michel was killed by her demons, more than being set free.

Happiness, as defined, comes in miniscule lengthed shreds,
Or in droplets of Romanov, on practical breads,
Cornered yet popular, Gandhi listed to-do-things like elaborately,
Freed the nation, and his son too, quite remarkably distinctively.

Even evil inspires, unconventionally gives the routes to heaven,
Sam Bourne, JL Carell, who travelled on Da Vinci Code's path of maiden,
Angels, only when mixed with demons, did bring fame to Dan Brown,
So you see, and I hope you see, else strip off that crown.

We never look for sweat, but talk in swearing heaps,
To solve the equation, Gandhi's Talisman, like the perfect preamblic creep
For the ones in jeopardy and the ones beyond, 59 isn't 100 though,
But definitely richer than 45, like the disheveled, unarmed foe.

We don't need a WWII, or the 6/9 August nuclear sweep,
Not a fluke Swastik, not a cross, shedding blood to prove its deep,
Stand for Will.I.Am's Colors, or perhaps, the Leet Speak
Cuz we need a solid investment, like Heath Ledger's duck feast, sans the feet and beak.