Road is prosperity
Roads are broken,
On the way of life
Evens are shaken and
Odds are taken.
Babies are innocent
They feed on milk,
Even it is melamined
Sense is it of what kind?
The evils are doing all this
For their sole profit
Don't you think them guilt?
And we watch them doing so
Like watching dramas
Leaning against a chair in cinemas
and like a shakesperian tragi-comedy
We depend on spirits
To find out remedy
Doing ourselves nothing.
Next to God there was a place
Where brokens were bridged
And the oppressed were blessed.
It is named as court
Where lawyers are rushing,
With the rush
The clients are crushing,
There is no sacred a place
As human mind is,
When it is rotten
How is it possible
From anywhere
To find a bit peace? 
