The little ways of this little man
He can't hold his hands from pain and pain
Poetry roses from head to toe
My hero lies here
I am sad today, don't let the roses bloom
They give bad news about my hero
of iron sofas with beds made of stone
My hero, my lion, lies here
You neither ate anything haram nor took a life
As clear as water, clean as bread
You made judgments without anyone hearing
My hero, my lion, lies here
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