Repent in ashes,
With drops of tears,
kissing Mother Earth.
In the debut of sins,
Ask with regrets.
Will God accept you as you are?
You’ll realise She would
For She’s the giver of life,
And upon Her bosom breast
Will you forever rest
So why worry?

Is it because of society?
Well, they’re judges in high places,
Hideous in the skies of advice,
With their critics raining like ice.
Their judgments freeze you into pieces,
And they never rest until you melt in peace
So why worry about them?
They’re never meant to be pleased.
Please Her instead!
Worrying only brings worries.
So then, why worry?