Living on the beggar’s field
Wilted heart and oh! The lonely minds
Stumbling on the rocky path
Bed of roses is nowhere to be found
Partly my heart gives in; partly my heart is soaring high
Dancing on the tune of jade, Puppets we are in hand of time
Can’t take the road down memory lane
Can’t squash the thirst for what happens next
Pray to one and preach to none, accrued breath is stained
Washing up one’s own sin will not eradicate what have been
Covering up the clinch on the glass doesn’t mean it was never broken
Thirst keeps the throat parched when rhythm like a poison burns
Forging bridge to another town, hoping it be wonderland
All in us give it our best but seeds that we sow
Didn’t grow so well on barren land
Like a nomad under charm of wanderlust we play ourselves to believe
When end is near their will be new beginning
Alternative reality, we are living on beggars field
An Indian Princess 