With me in a drum, where I could see no sun.
I fear none as I am in a drum.
I watched this world through a slit, slit number one.
Like on some binge remembering your brown eyes,
I kept on watching this world through slit number one.
Starting with the old lady close to drum,
she smiled in tattered clothes in shattered house,
close by cried a child, with bleeding gums,
And she kept on hiding money in her cotton blouse.
Child kept on crying, he kept on crying, and she kept on hiding.
I shrieked in my drum, but still no fear touched me,
as I was still in drum, was it metallic or wooden one?
Is there love in this world, where is it, tell me, dont be mum.
I still see your brown eyes, your light brown hairs, inside the drum.
Tell me, tell me, you love me, am I the one?
Then there was slit number two,
in front of whose a butterfly flew,
Blue butterfly, I asked her, she smiled and flew.
She touched a stone, a red rose grew, and again she flew.
Why was there so much love in slit number two.
I was eager for slit number three,
But then again there was you,
you in my thoughts seemed happy,
but then why there is sadness to see.
Why dont you join me, in the drum.
Through slit number three,
I saw a group of babies,
all girls and waiting in line,
in front of them was man with black vile.
Then what I saw was blood, which was too, too black.
In my drum, from here, I promise,
when we will marry and reproduce,
the girl we will have a brighter future,
will have a sky to touch and no man with black vile,
but we will live in a drum.
Why were there only three slits,
where were holy god’s wits.
I can see the truest truth,
the sense of pleasure in God’s mute.
After all he isnt forcing me out of drum.
I see rest of my life from the drum
will cry, smile and even shriek and laugh,
will point at things outside from within the drum.
I feel nothing can touch me, nothing can hurt,
I will keep on living inside the drum.