Looking below the window
Hot tears roll down my cheeks
The sky is raining blood
The sun is clouded with smoke
But hopefulness gleams in my eyes
That one day the sky shall be clear
The sun will again rise to glitter
Our meadows that have fallen dry
Shall again be green, green, green
Rain of peace shall pour in torrents
And wash away the anguish and pain
The new children seem to be busy
In drawing a new map of their land
Hope of getting free is tatoed on their heart
Old generation sitting on the sidelines
Unconcerned, muffled with closed eyes
Dead tired, sitting in a barber's shop,
Awfully busy in the idle talk
Who will win the match: India or Pak