see you standing there
always telling me what you think
i sit back on the grass,
as you slide over the brink

those years can leave a tinge of bitterness
masked by occasional laughter
that almost chokes from the throat
those years were the hardest ever

would you watch us
as we watch you
in an armchair sitting
of television drama

so i caught a little of the past
and pondered upon change
all this reminiscing
had me missing my roots

not us,
cannot blame us for everything
only something
why are we so concerned about our image
how perceive us
is it because we feel like the bad guys

waking up through a thought
that you learnt off a girl
you talked to at work
she lives in a cosmopolitan world
so she told me
i noticed her fingers were burnt

in my childish land
i grabbed a someone
which had a smallish hand

crossing over to the other side
dry as the pace of life
i crawled affectionately
to the bed in which i awoke

what a sight, life
nine months of paradise
conception to deception
and you had better believe it