race

the ones green trees are now yellow

the river water has grown weaker

the clock ticks the mountains down

and the ravines grow deeper and deeper

the time when our minds were green

has gone away like the flowing wind

the flower of the eyes is hidden sumwhere

the thorns wash the memmories clean

the warmth of the sun is now heat

the monsoon drops make us run

memories now stink of sweat

the innocense is now all wet

the time when heads were held high

legs would run on the moist grass

the wound from the thorns would be neglected

and mother's lullaby had no bass

but now shades are of stylish types

to save from the same warm sun

running on the asphalt roads

all that soothes is the sound of guns

the winter fog now blurrs us out

which intrigued us a few years ago

the winter fog just doesn't give the cold

but now it brings with it sorrow

sorrow was just loss of a toy

now it is a loss of a friend

friend which has a prefix boy

is not just the person to play

the world which opened on the park bench

is now wandering in the blinding lights

the sense of victory on the small slides

now comes by making others go down

the race for the swing in the morning

is now race for a meal by the evening

the memories of the fight for food

is now just a race away from childhood