Time will take time
Counting the seconds
and thirds of a century
generation growing nd dying like fruits on a vine
Like a thief in the night
with dreams and hopes absconds
leaving all dry like a mortuary
weeping on angel-wings and flight

on a plane
of existence
bomb or no bomb
we call it suspens-
i-on of life, dreams, states
and countries
all I want is to go home
but for now
we all cry alone.