The words I say doesn’t rhyme well
The laugh I have doesn’t shine well.
I tend to seek dreams far-fetched
But the hands I stretch out
doesn’t reach well.
Happiness is what I seek
But what I get
doesn’t feel well.
I dream of being a magician
Flying on a broom
With a robe and a wand.
To make a golem
With just mud and sand.
To Ride the dragons
And venture far off lands.
I want to float in the sky
And play with fire.
I want to find God
And ask what he desires.
I want to make the earth alive again
And spread happiness in hell and heaven.
Although I cherish the golden era in my dreams
But the sessions of my life doesn’t end well.
My passion takes me right and my obligation takes me left
Living in this paradox is as scary as hell.
Glory is to those who achieve their aim.
They live their lives and also achieve fame.
The Karma of my life
Doesn’t fill my heart with happiness.
And I feel like a fighter
Who doesn’t even fight well.
