Compose a cadence with a spontaneity of emotions, That may make me swing with the enchants of wind. And write the lyrics with no meaning, For denotations now, torn apart the sheds of my heart, Like a cyclone brings the blizzard with it.
My unlifted tears yell the chorus of ethnic percussion, And the bonfire fuses the eye-melodies with synth-lead bass, My feet plays a violin with every touch with floor, And that angle of 47° extends the Plunck , That shudders between the cosmic and UV Rays of my birth.
Like ways the squall beholds the cathedral, Where all the seats are reserved to sing melancholia with a tempo of Wadaiko. And the pianos of drizzling out on my head, Now shuffles the claps with a thwack.
The spaces within the trumpets of vibration, Portrays my every dead I perceived when all biotics and abiotics stood still at fringe of my door to see me how I perish.
The traces of rhythm when glass falls on my lips, The bleeding venom catharsis the twinkling hate, With a flow of Harmonica. The tender sunshine brings a peace with pearl drops, That stuck in between my cuts and take me, In the strings of pipe organs and oboe my existence. _priya__