Thoughts and words
were all the same,
Until that one
emotion became.
As music was for
the deaf in tone;
Without a soul,
just sticks and stones.

Brushes were picked
for kings and queens;
Their beauty ignored,
but riches be seen.
And Dare they erred
their throats were slit.
So their skies were blue,
and their grass be green.

But how long can you hide
the passion inside,
when things have this habit
of getting out of hands.

Thus happy we are
to lose ourselves,
for the will to mate
and each other create.

Floyd pinks
in Japanese;
On starry nights
the seas roar;
We kill and breed
whatever we must;
Namastasye, Namastasye!

By: Divey Gupta