We all are on death row.
we all are convicted of living...

Our death is intended
unless we prove otherwise...

like a moth that was going towards the fire.
I have seen you in darkness...

Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...

So deep in my ears,
there is a song...

There is an end to me and you,
but not to us...

In the oscillation of an accordion
we were gasping...

I dreamed of you at nights,
I sleepwalked you in the daylights...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

I dream of you
in jazz...

Others
Bridge us back to ourselves...

We must again,
learn these mundane paths...