Insects as Messengers

A shepherd born in primal days
Washed with tears in Bakkah
Dressed with verses
Shadowed with acts
Claimed to be heard in Hira
Dried be your face that you turn to Ka’bah every day
The same shit since it has begun
A place in Makkah in the middle of nowhere
Revolve around it with lies
We released insects from hell
We’d heard there were still believers
We infiltrated under this cover
And we saw it was just barren space