As the wind blows
Vibrating in an invisible mind
With bowstrings in iambic cymbals
Echoing in low loud voice
Repeating the flow with the rhythmic lines
In chromatic scale.

When the mutes march the cymbal
The silent song breeds awigiri
To kill my vein with his soprano

Music is my breakfast
That charm me with love
Only thy foes know no joy

Sound is of colours
It's like chameleon in bunch
Giving melody to his fans

Echoed history is hard to fade
We saw the nakedness of yesterday
From song
And hear the news
That kills my vein today