Lone...

I may not be a poet, but I wish I could sing of you.

I dream and dream and have been dreaming of you.

I don’t know if this is wrong or right,

But can’t think of anything for me that is more bright.

World isn’t my worry but I myself.

Withdraw back most often from the goal I myself.

And there recedes my soul lone…

I may not be a poet, but I wish I could sing of you.

I dream and dream and have been dreaming of you.

Don’t know if Venus played; don’t know if it’s just a longing

But am sure there’s some sort of a bonding.

Unaware of what tows me for you, your eyes, your lips your hair?

You don’t know what a cripple I am near you, and that’s so unfair.

And there recedes my soul lone…

I may not be a poet, but I wish I could sing of you.

I dream and dream and have been dreaming of you.

Loom for you quite now and then I in vain.

But a sober friend that you remain inflicts such a pain.

Cry dry eyed, sob sans noise knowing its vice.

Agony burns me in and out and there’s no other prize.

And there recedes my soul lone…

I may not be a poet, but I wish I could sing of you.

I dream and dream and have been dreaming of you.

Wonder what you have to say to this

Does it amuse you or gives you a miss.

Wonder whether you have something to say;

Or does my lingering hope; should pave a way for dismay?

And there recedes my soul lone…

I may not be a poet, but I wish I could sing of you.

I dream and dream and have been dreaming of you.

Why those cackles n pranks of your humour n gaiety

Burn my desires within me; burning me insanely

If not to tick on its veracity, but for unity,

Tap stroke n pat the simmering pot into a unanimity.

But there recedes my soul lone…

But there recedes my soul lone…