Brothers, heed my call!
As our sphere becomes a cesspit,
Where intolerant effluent flows,
Blooming like opinion’s night soil,
Let us keep our sacred hall
A place of rest from petty shit
Free from vile intemperant glow
Supplanting our harmony with moil.
So brothers, please, I beg you all,
For this time we rest and sit
Let’s keep our chamber pots below
Lest our tempers seethe and boil.
Brothers, please, let’s keep this space
A harmonious place of restful grace.
Aroil in Pain 