Back in those days when I was young and strong. Pristine, Noble, as pure as you'd long. White as a dove, handsome as a king. I'm a token of love, far greater than a ring. My making contained both good and bad. My maker being a hot headed lad. Blood as blue as the skies and seas, I stood along the riverside enjoying the occasional breeze. My history is both wonderful and morbid. My beauty-spoken of, I'm known by each kid. Lovers cherish me, write songs of my presence. create tales of their own, activate every sense.
And now when I speak, when I look at my current state I'm sad, deeply sorry at my distressing fate. Handcrafted marble whiter than milk. Quality as such, smoother than silk. Today has eroded, decayed and died. It matters not how much I've cried. For it all falls on deaf ears while factory noises expose my fears. My white is no more, I'm a deepening gray. I see pity in the eyes where once admiration lay. The pride of India, its biggest glory. The life of Agra, this is my story. Being the crown of the nation, the jewel of its eye. A wonder of the world, I feel like a lie. For what I am today isn't me at all. I've lived at great heights survived a great fall.
It is my request sincere and deep. Give me no reason to further weep. Awaken. Arise. the time is here. Preserve your glory, keep the pride near. I am none other, than your beloved Taj Mahal. this is my story, one I ought to tell. Now my life is in your hands. the choice is yours as are the lands. Choose wisely, The devils or me? Perish with them or rejoice with me?