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…
