I ask them 'when do i turn suave?' ... do i need to reach my sixties?
I wait patiently for the day... learning and pulling to myself all i get...
Time is rolling by on its own way... spoiling me sometimes ...but more, making me all set...
Sometimes its over confidence ... but yet at others, lack of the same...
We all row in the same pinnace... waiting for our chance in the game...
Nobody sees himself steady always...never should that end up in a shallow...
If there are mounds then there are concaves... they are two faces of times' hollow
I try to set some sense of trend... 'Goodwill always wins' those words resound my sorrow...
Dreams come and dreams are made to bend... And ya i still stand with no one to follow...
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