Writing with keyboard and painting with mouse The world is mutating with leaps and with bounce The net is becoming like a virtual god With billions of photos and millions of blogs We call it so proudly an information age With desktop and laptops becoming Wired cage
We've got too many dreams and too many hopes too many dieases and too many dose too many weapons and too many wars too much of banking and too many laws too many dollars and too many pounds too many questions and too many doubts too many cigratees and too many drinks too many girlfriends with too many jeans too many secrets and too many lies too much of drama I'm hardly surprise!!!!
Why is it, I am falling from mountains, and why is it, I am laughing on pain. What is this, sort of, craving for estacy, How come it, neither break nor it bends. How can I, keep on playing realities, and why does I have no foe or no friend. Something is, kind of, constantly calling me, making me neither fool or no saint. Hundreds of questions, lulling so deep within, what will I do, if I face them again.