Poetry

Years and milleniums pass
No change in our die-cast
And in usual routine
Flow following at last.
Some exhausted, and some lazy,
Some about bread are crazy,
Over all sounds simple tune.
All discepancies erazing
Hey, musiciian, play, I'll be believing,
That the better a day will come soon
Hey, musiciian, play, doors all leaving
Wde ajar to the future blue moon
lt is not an audience freak,
No French shouts, no Greek.
Missing curtains; and no prompters,
And the scene is narrow street.
Songs and fates and cities scores
That's musicians' en route chores.
And his empty pocket trite
Is the least of mundain woes
Hey, musiciian, play, I'll be believing,
That the better a day will come soon
Hey, musiciian, play, doors all leaving
Wde ajar to the future blue moon
Hey, musiciian, play, I'll be believing,
That the better a day will come soon
Hey, musiciian, play, doors all leaving
Wde ajar to the future blue moon
 




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