If you finally come, And meet me home, Seated in despair, Looking like a failure, A maniac in amnesia, In a picnic of insomnia, Just know I tried, But my hands were tied.
If you see life rhymes, Think not of a hymns, Neither a complete flair, Nor it as a myrrh. Things make a dipsomania, Too a megalomania, Life's rhythm's sophisticated, Hard to dance to it's rhapsody.