Itβs far fetched! I cannot reach there. Wherever there is. So I fall short and indulge into the vices and excitements until all sense of being is lost . I do this to myself.
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say could that lad be I?
Merry of soul, he sailed on a day
Over the sea to the sky.
Billow and breeze,
Island and seas
Mountains of rain and sun.
All that was good and
All that was fair
All that was me is gone.