Woe is a final decision,
For the soul living in dungeon

He is not shy, he is calm
He is not bad, he is serious
Heart full of sorrow, sadness in his eyes
In very cruel life, alone with no one to help

Day is short in the bliss and long in troubles
No sleep for the overthinker or bad dreamer
At night, he is always walking around
Committed no sin but they call him a thug

He is a hustler, the man with nothing
Poor man in our town, i met him at street
There struggling, not waiting for the bus
He is sad, he knows nothing about happiness

He can not think of tomorrow,
Only thing in his mind is the worse accident
Happened years ago to his wife and children
All died when his house burnt down

Some people got the blessings and chances,
He owns none of them, but the endless grief.