It dragged me like a bolt, at last
From the clutches of the darkest past,
Filled with shame, and none to blame,
It was I who played the game.
Slapped by ignorance, and pride,
With broken ties of friendship – chide,
I couldn’t take a perfect shot;
‘Cause I was the one at fault.
All I had ever thought of,
Laughed and content of,
Was an obsession of unreality,
Riding hollow waves of practicality.
All the fabricated tunes of trust,
Stabs of ignorance and unjust,
Tearing me apart with every jolt,
I…I was blind, even to revolt.
With the waves of life waiting for none,
And a score of jobs left undone,
Covered in all ash and grime,
And everything fails to rhyme.
Its time I took up the blame,
Face up the shame,
And still play the game,
But with a different aim.