e Sometimes my thoughts are,
Like stray clouds,
Blown around on a windy day,
I know not where they are headed to,
And if ever be put at rest.
But I want them to be sensible,
And choose the right path,
Not roam about aimlessly,
Only at the mercy of the wind.
I want them to be like summer rain,
Descending on the drying landmass,
Reviving life and cheer and vigour,
All around, on the land and air.
I know not where they are headed to,
And if ever be put at rest.
But I want them to be sensible,
And choose the right path,
Not roam about aimlessly,
Only at the mercy of the wind.
I want them to be like summer rain,
Descending on the drying landmass,
Reviving life and cheer and vigour,
All around, on the land and air.
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