In the cool savanna where it all is slow,

I languish benefit the stuffiness of comfort,

The line of hope and boredom collide,

I see myself as a withering branch,

Unknown to me in the leafy shrubs,

The enemy watches and smiles at my absence,

Cheering on my languid demeanour,

So unconcerned with life and moving ahead,

It is so scary what stagnation can mean.