They wish to stay sophisticated,
But afraid of taking risks.
And,
Choose to bicker over petty conflicts that exist.
They wish to want what they can get,
But not retrict their nonsense.
And,
Choose to bicker over petty conflicts that exist.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
And...
When the daylight comes,
They run away from the Sun.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
These people do their screw ups,
In the corners of the dark.
And...
When the daylight comes,
They run away from the Sun.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
They wish to stay sophisticated,
But afraid of taking risks.
And,
Choose to bicker over petty conflicts that exist.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
When the daylight comes,
They run away from the Sun.
Grow old,
They do...
With a purpose that molds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem