They stay ahead in the game
They get all the fame
Hands behind the names
Play together near the Ganges.
Students are exchanging the teachers
For a pair of flying feathers
Vasitvens use people for their dirty work
Their time machine helps them to stay alert
The Teacher show mercy on his children
He seldom realizes that he is student’s means of fun
But he seeks the potential that becomes clairvoyant
He takes for himself the ignorance.
It’s very hard for the children
To find the real master
Children quote Pink Floyd
But without having a clue, what a disaster
Three students, one never waits but is clever
Another patient one but isn’t that great
The third never listens to a word teacher says
Their fights make hard to learn yonder.
Hiding face in the sunshine he enjoys the moods
While a student make devil’s tools
One life will become others karma
Contraption dogma is an enigma.
Rest of students wonder if it’s devotion or desire
They sometimes listen to the wails of the beast
Nobody knows is it a bane or a boon?
Destiny breeds with divine pyre.
If the future is a timed affair,
Wonder whether there will be a fare.
They’ll know and the intent isn’t’ there
Then they’ll follow only God’s literature
They couldn’t find there their brethren
Finding someone else in their master’s guise
Singing their anthem they all rebel
They retreat when the one rings a bell.
Only one exists among a zillion
He changes the machine into minions.
Stirring multiple systems of incarceration,
The river is filling dreams of emancipated ones.
We all are out of signs
Turning blood into wine
I never got lost at heights going back is my decision,
I’ll find the agony clothed three unforgiven.
You gave your power to the machine,
Now you come here to ask me,
Choose one of the two oppositions
Machines cover my dirty deeds.
This war is a never-ending war my brothers,
Hunt next to the other shore.
Trying to bend the rules,
Don’t kill your golden goose
He who should show if he looks for me
He will get dubbed no more.
‘They left their land forsaken’
Cried a white crow once
The machine found the emancipated bum
The law you follow was my discovery
When I resided as an emancipated tree,
That you cut down for your fun.
What you did for mass’s sake was in vain
One who still believes my moots
will never be wafted in my rain.
Make your show worthy or take my show.