Two strangers passing by,
None of the passengers as their hearts.
Stranger waves of strangers,
No home is found in between.
Everyone dreams and it’s either,
Their eyes or their paths, lost in either one anothers screen.
A friend gives you a stamp for a truly, smiled, face,
A heart full in your pocket is planted.
Between the tables,
A city that is lost and locked underneath.
You see everyone and you wonder;
If he’s here,
If we were ever with him.
A sea of cities present,
Yet nothing is equal to her grace.
Libraries are the final project of humanity,
Yes here they are the apocalypse sign of times.
I was born a drummer,
I will die without drumming even late.
A city without a fencless zoo is doomed,
For the human brains to be caged.
Tea in the summer heat becomes,
The only key to heaven’s gate.
