By Athar Mudasir
Oh people why thy have been so sheeple
Following thee every ordo of Riddler
Getting burdened with debt of a game
Following thee every ordo of Riddler
Getting burdened with debt of a game
How lame have been thy setting a blind fold blame
How forgranted are been taken the roses of orchid
Break thy for someone's fame.
The orchid belongs to no one's claim
But yet you see lines of Crows crying
I wonder what fate will be thee to this nation
Where garden of tulips is decorated on graves
But yet you see lines of Crows crying
I wonder what fate will be thee to this nation
Where garden of tulips is decorated on graves
Someone is yet holding grapes waiting for thee fragrance of roses which once bloomed
Watching this magnificent art of clock on the wall which never delays a second
Snow falls from terrace and shakes us
Leaving a thought had it collapse something
How deep did Cold penetrates thy soul
Hardly we take heed to look from the window.
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