Tedious are the ways,

Growing old with you Sun,

Burning now and then,

Still the voice haunts me "run,run".

Life is becoming stale,

Coloured wings growing pale.

I feel death when i awake,

I need sustenance to revive,

Give my burning heart

Heavy with the fragrance of life.

I want to write,I want back my thousands wings,

Bury the desires of life

that making me coward,

Take my all earthly possessions,

Just give me word,give me word.