One day as he looked down at his creation, both with contempt and admiration god let a tear fall down his cheek because it's lonely at the peak Each day as he looks upon his own invention he suffers in solitude by a purdah of heaven for who can look past his celestial veil, and see him as a being, allmighty and frail? True, he has servants, a multitude of veneration but where is an equal, a comrade, superior? he lost it all much before the ascension for no one loves a master, he fashioned them inferior At each season of spring, each joyous newborn That he suffered for with his crown of thorns who does he smile to, who does he laugh with, and who bothers to ask about the infinite blacksmith? So thus god tires of being great, of billions of worshippers and immortal seclusion, for what is achievement if it's shrouded in loneliness? Simple superficiality if without an inclusion