I My lips are colorless and parchred, But the drink I need is scarce. And thus I march, In the desert, that is our love! I wait for the Oasis To hit me up. II Oh my towering ignorance! For the Voice I seek Is found in the silence
The advancing night was scary, I dreaded sleep, not the nightmares really Opening eyes to another hopeless day Was the thought that terrified me! Image Source: Sadequain's Original Work at Frere Hall, Karachi
The socks, I wanted to wear, Were a mismatched pair.