‚ÄčAnd when the soldiers got lost
She sent a raven to the east
May it find a trace of war
May it find a stranded peace

But rose the tides of silver land
Turning fate that sleigh of hand
The beast was down in dolour fire
Rave the raven for army’s ire

Beast was only pep of hope
Her rage was only for the pain
Army only fled for freedom
Peace was only blood in rain

So the end a fairy tale
Of clarus queen and monster pale

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Oh if I wish to see the world
Give me a sight of infinity
A view spectacle of sky
With eternal unbound mobility
And when the comets rolling come
Or sun goes finally old, obese
When the moon will be but a star
Must I awe at the rave of these
A calligraphy of universe
Bamboozling, mysterious, poetic verse
Waves may ripple my soul a day
Of Andromeda’s carnality with MilkyWay
From lone plantes and cast out stars
To see ocean vapour go out of reach
Let me live a life in head
To Marvel my people’s universal breach
Oh, I am a man with an outrun dream
How distant yet true does it seem.

I found my heart
On a lonesome broken street
My youth walks around
With a fire in my feet
If I tell you what I want
Will I lose my sleep?
For dreams are all yours
And all that mine is weep
For there’s a flower in my ganrden
That I can’t give to any
I can’t sing in choir
I’ve heard singing many
My love is burning coal
Will you hold my hand?
It’s different from the others
Of an infertile sand
My heart may build a home
In that broken lonely street
Stained with wasted colours
Of hopes that often sleep
A world that never happened
A love that mourned for you
A heart that weary pauper
May rest in rust and rue

I come from a generation
Lost and bewildered
Broke, broken and braille
Where heart is just a toy
And dreams are unanswered
Where life is a marathon
On legs of ignorance
I come from a generation
Where flowers don’t smell
We quench our thirst with revenge
Water is so overrated
Where world is heating up
Yet people are turning cold
Where words, not bullets make holes
I come from a generation
Where no one is ever sure
Of being sure about facts
Where tears are fierce instruments
Lying, lynching and leeching
Where religion is still thriving
Where no one is ever whole again
I come from a generation
So vulnerable and sick in heart
Where vanity is the only end
Where rain not only grows wheat
But also pain in the chest
I come from a generation
Which is a masterpiece of broken art