It’s never too late to think anew,
To feel that the world can change,
And I can drive the wheel which spells revolution.
The winds of renewal brush past so lightly,
And they ruffle my hair, leave me lightheaded.
Blood pumps through these veins and I wanna shout
Tell the world that I have arrived,
No rule, no policy stops me; all these I flout.
I know that my hair is still black,
And lines have not yet defined my face.
I am still naïve enough to retain my faith,
And for the most part I still like to smile.
The system is rotten, they scream themselves hoarse.
It’s for a reason, I wanna tell them
We are the system, don’t you get it silly!
But they know, and they chuckle slyly of course.
Its easy to curse the crowd and blame the babus,
One billion citizens all in self righteous garbs,
A billion holy souls and a billion rotten men.
No comments:
Post a Comment