Another year passes by, another picture on the wall.
a monotonous cycle of summer, rain, winter and fall.
same resolutions, destined to be broken.
Many dreams, still to be woken.
The dream of a promised life,
health, wealth, children and wife;
Is hoped at the end of this strife.
In the dark alleys of moonless night, I grope.
We all live in a constant hope.
Tomorrow will become yesterday in time.
Even Lemonade is but, water, sugar and lime.
Any day is only worth its shame or glory.
when there is a promised future and a forgettable history.
way to go Mr Krishnamurthi...or should i say Mr. kicked-my-arse-while-i-was-high.
ReplyDeletenice little jingles and rhymes you got going on here. you know what, lets cut the chase. indeed interesting stuff. never knew that i had a fellow blogger sitting next to me right there sipping beer!
:)
~Nachiketa