Every one in some way, chases the wind,
That great deal, often blown by the wind,
Like Musa, the mechanic, lost into weed,
Weeding day and night till the end of the week,
Later becoming weak,
A dead weakling…
Gone with the wind..
Once upon a time, I lodged my chase,
Some beautie whose name was Chance,
Alas the while, at the church,
She sang like a nurse,
So i nursed my wound,
Before putting on my hood,
To the deflated mood,
Oh God…
This half human goddess!2
It was like chasing the wind,
Or to the best the whirlwind,
For everyone, in someway,
Chases the wind,
Anyways..
