Where are those beautiful days
when our hearts were so young and fresh.
Enjoying every part of life,
no tension just liberty
Like the free birds we use to soar high
and mother calling us back home.
Every day same scoldings
yet the hearts were so free and merry.
Where are those days?

Where are those beautiful days?
when we use to spun a plot to fool our mother,
but alwaye be caught and chided.
When days seems to be so short to go out yell and kick a mischief.
no tension of tomorrow just living the life of present.
unknown about good and bad
but smart enough to rock a man
where are those days?

Where are those beautiful days
when mother use to comb our hair,bathe us,pack our lunch and bag
in parties we use to be centre of attraction with our mother's make up

Wild our imaginations were, strong our desires were.

naughty were we, still loved by everyone

where are those days? those beautiful days?