Flow, like the furious river.
Run, like the careless wind.
Dive, like the bird in flight.
Cry, like the dew on the grass.

Live, like the last day of life.
Die, like the peace of the night.
Hate, like an eternal flare.
Love, like the mother's care.

Sing, like nobody's here.
Dance, like you don't care.
Talk, to the silent day.
Walk, when they all say nay.

There is motion, but no life.

There's a rainbow, but no colour.

But on the threshold of a new future,

Here I stand - waiting, wanting.

Here is all I desired, envied.

Here's something they all want.

But with a handful of dreams,

Here I stand - waiting, wanting.

What is there to life but You?

Who am I but Your shadow?

As your image flashes before me,

Here I stand - waiting, wanting.

These chains - the story of my present.

They bind me; make the heart bleed.

They dig deep into the skin; they hurt.

The blood flows in a teary stream.

These chains - the story of my future.

They scare me; make me step back.

They make me turn back, and cry

make me stare into the void; blank.

As the days wore on in drudgery,

As the sound faded and died out.

As the spirit got soaked out,

The dark brought an eerie calm.

There were no questions asked,

No promises made, no warning.

The giant sweeping hand of time,

Swept him, forever, away from home.