If you think that it is good enough,
Then certainly you are wrong.
It ain’t the fullest zest,
It isn’t the place to rest,
Coz it is a million miles
From the reigns of welkin.
No breaking down,
Still a lot of walking.
I want to sing when the rain will fall,
Intoxicating music and see the world roll,
To pen down the beats of gust,
Before they turn to dust,
And to catch those moments,
Before they rust.
(But) they dissolve in my blood.
I have seen enough of those floods.
They scream “Blink the torches”
“Ink the thoughts”
When you will turn those pages,
You will understand the struggle lasting ages.
I want to turn those pages real,
White walls to be colored,
But it ain’t good,
Coz it ain’t what it should,
Beetle nibble’s the wood.
Ever look at the farmer’s crop,
They reflect his sweat and hope.
At times I look at them too,
But I don’t have a clue,
I want to fix them up,
Give me some kind of glue.
I thought I am good enough,
I realize I was wrong.
All those dead children want to breathe,
God they need to live!
3.10.2007
