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Jan 2019 · 177
Old Sun
Vineeth Jan 2019
From my window I see each day passing
The fat old sun in the sky is falling
The silver moon in the night sky is shining
Casting a shadow and silently speaking
From my window I see each season passing
Yellow leaves from the trees are falling
Now the fat old sun starts crying
The rays of hope are slowly dying
From my window I see each year passing
Moving in time but not arriving
Now the fat old sun has been longing
A day amongst the clouds with silver lining
From my window I see the fat old sun is falling
Winter nights are rising
And the fat old sun is slowly dying
Jan 2019 · 105
Thoughts
Vineeth Jan 2019
I sat under the old Banyan tree
Sipping the old Tennessee whiskey
The earth revolved and evolved
My thoughts dissolved
Jan 2019 · 100
War
Vineeth Jan 2019
War
The children died of hunger
The mothers died of wounds, not the one that could be seen on the outside, but the ones that never truly healed
Countless lives lost
Countless grenades tossed
Green hats marching
With their stomachs starving
Countless dead and their bodies burnt
With every breath a lesson to be learnt
Countless bullets were fired
Wondering if the long necked machine would ever get tired
A battle fought with misery
This was the battle of  '53
Through eyes like ashes
The bright white hope flashes
Jan 2019 · 140
Oh Boy!
Vineeth Jan 2019
Hey there, hear my sad story
I walk through this ghost town, my head hung low and my eyes weary
My 6 string hangs around my shoulder
The lights dim and the air grows colder
I find a rusty old chair lying
Creaking and wobbling, this old chair is crying
And I start to play the tunes of my sad old heart
Where do I start?
A boy once lived in a far away land
Roamed the deserts filled with sand
On a winter eve he set on a journey
To find magic and live in harmony
He walked and walked until the sun went down
He walked past every town
No magic did he ever find
A pain in his heart, that couldn’t be left behind
Alone did he ever run
Not a single soul, he could call a loved one
Now he roams the streets with a 6 string
Living a life without meaning
Craving for the day he has since been longing
Nor magic nor harmony will he ever find
This is a cruel world that is not so kind
So I sing the songs of my sad old heart
Until the day my heart falls apart

— The End —