26 Nov 1982

On the night of twenty six, november, eighty two,
The staff of KK Hospital, dunno what to do.
In room thirteen a chinese woman is soon to give birth.
They do not know if the baby is a blessing or a curse.

A stormy night a year ago, an old man rushes in,
He jumps up on the table, where he could be seen.
"I'm a prophet" he roared, " you fuckers better bow down"
"For I have a vision of a things a year from now."

"Something great will happen, twelve months from this date,
two babies will be born, of opposing fate.
One is kind, with righteousness, he'll rule the world
The other just the oppersite, and havoc he will stir."

"What should we do?", the nurses cried, in voices full of fear.
"Just follow my instructions and salvation will be near.
Here I have in this bag, filled with magic stones,
Throw them on the babies head, it'll turn them monotone."

"With this stones, their level of good or evil will be neutralised"
I'll even throw in this cute little bag, if you can pay the price.
There are ten stones in here, for there will be ten births that night,
Although goodness will be sacrifised, the evil must be destroyed"

The staffs all pooled thier money, one thousand to be exact,
The prophet refuse credit cards, only cash transact.
As mysteriously the old man emerged, the same he disappeared.
The magic stones are safely kept, for that fateful night they are geared.

Back in nineteen eighty two, the situation do far,
the staffs of the hospital are still in a dilemma.
For there are eleven birth that night, instead of the predicted ten.
What should they do with the remaining magic stone at hand?

Just when their predicament, couldn't get any worse,
Another woman in room seventeen, has just given birth.
"Bring the three babies together, then we will decide."
With only one stone in hand , we have to determine what is right"

It seems to be fated, each child is of different race.
One indian the other chinese, the last one's a malay.
By looking at their cute little faces, it's hard to know who'll go astray,
But a vote has been decided, to kill the indian kid anyway.

Now only left with two, the best way for this to be concluded,
Is to throw the last stone up, for fate will decide where it landed.
Fingers crossed and eyes closed, they threw the stone up high,
The stone flew down matrix style and hit the chinese boy.

The boy immediately stopped crying and all taces of emotions earsed,
He has turn monotoned, with a poker face.
As for the malay boy, to a Mosque he was took.
To end the night in celebration, the staffs all went to zouk.

Since generations has pass, this story has never been heard,
No one knows the malay kid turns out a saint or bastard.
All files that night has been erased, all access forbid.
But the words on the street is that the kid's name is .... harmid?
Damned!