There are fault lines
In this land I love
They are fever cells
In this yield I love
They are fuming wounds
In these serpents I breed
When there are fault lines
I can see them vividly
I can see their venomous permutations
As I see from above
Above the eyelids of all my sons
Above the grey hairs of all my grandsons
Above the black birds of all those forefathers
Zigzag across the fizzog
When they vomit lava and lashes of wisdom
A few survive to meet the destiny
Puzzles are there from primordial winters
Somewhere engraved in caves
Some where etched in stones
Somewhere buried in calenders
Some where weaved in cocoons
Somewhere someone want to plough my fault lines
Do you think I will look at this like a fool in a proverb?
Do you think I will stand still like a ribbon crow?
Do you think they have rights over my fault lines?
I have seen them growing in pain
I have seen them howling in tremors
I had hibernated for years when they were just seeds of destiny
I had seen their ripples across the peaceful valleys
For them it is just a fault line that breeds contempt
Why do fault lines breed contempt?
Anguish exist beyond my farm
Only that I want them to grow like the flat landers* of the prime
Any ways my fault lines exist today and they were bleeding bad for years
No one dared to seed the flowers of Eden* or Springs of Manasa Sarover*
Now they have formed a design that utters songs
Songs that they need, those who come again and again in vein
Songs that they lick, lust, lash, leap and lampoon on their gardened breasts
I am least bothered as they celebrate the wisdom of the gardenia
I am talking to them, my own fault lines
And they will listen and recite my songs for ever
In the moments of juxtapose, which only I know
We will meet and meet and meet and meet for the miserable times to come!
In this land I love
They are fever cells
In this yield I love
They are fuming wounds
In these serpents I breed
When there are fault lines
I can see them vividly
I can see their venomous permutations
As I see from above
Above the eyelids of all my sons
Above the grey hairs of all my grandsons
Above the black birds of all those forefathers
Zigzag across the fizzog
When they vomit lava and lashes of wisdom
A few survive to meet the destiny
Puzzles are there from primordial winters
Somewhere engraved in caves
Some where etched in stones
Somewhere buried in calenders
Some where weaved in cocoons
Somewhere someone want to plough my fault lines
Do you think I will look at this like a fool in a proverb?
Do you think I will stand still like a ribbon crow?
Do you think they have rights over my fault lines?
I have seen them growing in pain
I have seen them howling in tremors
I had hibernated for years when they were just seeds of destiny
I had seen their ripples across the peaceful valleys
For them it is just a fault line that breeds contempt
Why do fault lines breed contempt?
Anguish exist beyond my farm
Only that I want them to grow like the flat landers* of the prime
These flat landers have flattened sols
These flat landers have flattened foreheads
These flat landers have flattened lungs
These flat landers are flattered by all
I love and hate their flattened existence
Any ways my fault lines exist today and they were bleeding bad for years
No one dared to seed the flowers of Eden* or Springs of Manasa Sarover*
Now they have formed a design that utters songs
Songs that they need, those who come again and again in vein
Songs that they lick, lust, lash, leap and lampoon on their gardened breasts
I am least bothered as they celebrate the wisdom of the gardenia
I am talking to them, my own fault lines
And they will listen and recite my songs for ever
In the moments of juxtapose, which only I know
We will meet and meet and meet and meet for the miserable times to come!
