O Mephistopheles!

I sold my soul to the devil once,
In return for a chance, a shot, a bunce.
I etched my eyes with Faustian dreams,
Oblivious to his perfidious schemes.

I wished to walk a thousand miles,
Climb up those stairs, walk down those aisles.
The rascal in his wily sport,
Turned me into a theatre escort.

Convinced there was no wound gold couldn’t mend,
I wished for wealth that would never end.
Readily the fiend obeyed my command,
And I had but a dime glued to my hand.

To beat him at his own little game,
I wished for the world to know my name.
The bastard made me the prince of crime,
The most hunted man of our time.

With each defeat my ego swelled,
Wanted all the power the heavens held.
Cause at will a billion scares,
The sole reason for foreign affairs.

He, he just smirked and with aplomb,
Turned me into an atomic bomb!

I sold my soul to the devil once,
In retrospect I was such a dunce.
I etched my eyes with Faustian dreams
Oblivious to his perfidious schemes.

The Preamble (as it should read).

We, the politicians of India, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a quasi-sovereign, pseudo-socialist, comparatively secular, incompetently democratic, semi-republic and to secure to all its citizens: extortionate and leisurely justice; the illusion of liberty; superficial equality; and promote among them all, fraternity with poverty, misery n despair; in our constituent assembly, this twenty-sixth day of November, 1949, do hereby adopt enact and give to ourselves this grand placebo.