When the game is over before it even begins,
And streaming tears only but irritate your bruised cheeks,
It's hard to tell if truly there's light at the tunnel's end,
It's hard to cut the strings of emotions which agony pulls taut,
Amidst the turbulent waves of trouble and strife,
One struggles to keep abreast, at least,
Yet your life is a constant source of weariness.

Memories that sting and fear of what tomorrow will bring,
Anger that burns, scars for eternity,
But guess what, you can't do anything
When you tried, what you brought to table was merely meagre,
And when you become lax, life couldn't get worse,
The aura of helplessness chokes me,
As it seems like I fell into the wrong hands.

Occasionally, the turnout is good enough to eat,
A soothing distraction from the pangs of reality,
Wait for the swerve to hit you and for a moment,
When you begin to bear the brunt of hardship,
You might just think all of it is surreal,
Hook, line and sinker, you swallow the pills of a sad life,
However, wearing the mask of a happy jaybird.

Nothing stings more than living a doleful life,
Nothing stresses more than seeking the peak of satisfaction,
I drag my exhausted muscles, up, down, everyday,
In search of where I can fetch a few bails of prime time without a dime,
Few bails to last me a lifetime,
But even the streams I find,
All of them in a state of turbidity.

Neither can the nightingale nor I see a reflection of who I truly am,
Give me a spade and I'll dig up my grave,
Give me a knife, watch me cut short my life,
I won't look back, I'm not Lot's wife,
I choose to let go and let God,
Though I wish I was with God sometimes,
Now I'm full, let the ride stop here.