His dreams, goals, desires and ambitions
All dumped by some ruthless traditions
And when he tied a knot on his hopes
Fate crossed, burning his golden-ropes
And then he wore a shroud of silence

As putting his creative-self to violence
Stagnant life, abstract-thoughts
Visions turned to blind-spots
His frantic-cries and soundless-screams
Were chasing all his life-long dreams
Not hard-luck that caused these griefs
But toadying people as cunning thieves
Stealing all his flamy-passions
Dragging him in chaotic-fashion
Where people die to get a name,
Dancing on the roll of fame
And you befell an endless-pain,
Tangled goals make you vain
And when he caught his breath at last
Hazy-aims put him to blast
And all his colors turned to rust
A futile-chase of deluded-stardust