The days, they are slipping away fast like sunlight streaming out of the eaves.
as night plays musical chairs with dawn, i am fading away like the dying cries of the cicadas.
i lament the chaos, the disorder, the anomie of the organisation.
what is organisation but alphabets jumbled up in an incoherent mish-mash.
who is a leader that does not align his deeds to words,
but an empty vessel trawling a route of misdirection.
so much unhappiness seething in the ground,
and yet he sits unmoved in his ivory tower.
as another torrent of meaningless dither comes forth,
sad we are, the misguided crew.
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