The sun of love is burning bright
The words of song are singing life
The lemon is now a lemonade light
In a heart of gold thats purely mine
In the chaos of world
I would just play under the sun
They will cry, shout n scream
While I aint gonna be done
The fight remains, It long began
Its gonna make us run
We lost the first, we lost the sun
Victory though, is yet to come
Love me my friend, Love thee my friend
We all are loved by God
We share a place, We share our hearts
We share the same Lord
There is a way, There is a thought
We all are waiting for
Coz wait's the thing that defines our fight
The thing, we are searching for
Here I am, out of the blue
Here is me, back to you
Here is the flower, the spirit of joy
Here's the sword, beauty sublime
In the chaos of world
I would just play under the sun
They will cry, shout n scream
While I aint gonna be done
The fight remains, It long began
Its gonna make us run
We lost the first, we lost the sun
Victory though, is yet to come
The soot choked mah throat
Evil broke my boat
My will still remained
Blood still rushed through veins
Their fire tryna burn my soul
My spirit loved to punch through holes
For they had to die their way
And Me was there to hear them say...
"Here's the 'first' we owe to you
And here is the sun we stole
Here is our sword, pardon we beg
Here's the word we lost to you"
In the chaos of world
I would just play under the sun
They will cry, shout n scream
While I aint gonna be done
The fight remained, It long began
Its helluva made us run
We got the first, we got back the sun
Here's the victory that had got to come...
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The beginner...
Well, this ain't a majestic combination of words put together, for I happen to be new to the very concept of blogging. My imagination about the same was initially, quite ridiculously, some wierd form of hacking that had become this decade's teenage sensation ( Quite like the hippie movement of 60's ). Facts coming face to face, I realised it was far from my poor fictious fabrication. Hence , I adopted it too.
I must confess that I don't have any fascination for putting time on net writing my views which to my belief has very negligible audience ( this is again my imagination... ) nor am I an avid follower of some popular fiction series or a TV freak who can never give up on latest headlines in political world or elsewhere. I consider it rather safe to admit that my inspiration comes from the very little but curiously creative lyrics of some of the best minds in Western music ( Liam Gallagher, Richard Ashcroft, Bryan Adams to name a few... ) . Their appreciation with popular awards is enough to prove their unquestionable talent.
So, now the question, Why me here? May be simply because I was insisted by my cousin to do so. Not that I am disinterested, but except for my plans to give CAT, there isn't any particular reason why I am trying my hands with words.
However, on an afterthought, perhaps the modest reason above is too loosely stated to appeal me to write. So, I get on with exploring further. I can't disagree to the fact that writing a long report through painful research was source of a subtle and immense satisfaction. I hated those, I know, but I still loved the pain. The joy of creation, creation of something paramount, the paramount what I defined and believed, my belief explored and put in words were the aspects of unearthly pleasure that I could feel even before or without any appraisal. The fact that my words are recorded, the fact that I hold a niche in the unbound world of knowledge was more than an accomplishment that inspired me to work on my next project.
This is my first so called "blog" or perhaps far from that too. While, as I emphasized on my one project inspiring me to do the other, I am still keeping away from commiting my schedule to my blogsite. Quite paradoxically to the experience shared earlier, I believe that every work of art has a shell life. How long that will be, depends on the elegance of that art. Further comment on this view could be debatable. Hence I stop. I must thank those who had put an effort to read this completely non-informative work of mine and request pardon for the amateur writer for mistakes, if any.
ArianHeart
I must confess that I don't have any fascination for putting time on net writing my views which to my belief has very negligible audience ( this is again my imagination... ) nor am I an avid follower of some popular fiction series or a TV freak who can never give up on latest headlines in political world or elsewhere. I consider it rather safe to admit that my inspiration comes from the very little but curiously creative lyrics of some of the best minds in Western music ( Liam Gallagher, Richard Ashcroft, Bryan Adams to name a few... ) . Their appreciation with popular awards is enough to prove their unquestionable talent.
So, now the question, Why me here? May be simply because I was insisted by my cousin to do so. Not that I am disinterested, but except for my plans to give CAT, there isn't any particular reason why I am trying my hands with words.
However, on an afterthought, perhaps the modest reason above is too loosely stated to appeal me to write. So, I get on with exploring further. I can't disagree to the fact that writing a long report through painful research was source of a subtle and immense satisfaction. I hated those, I know, but I still loved the pain. The joy of creation, creation of something paramount, the paramount what I defined and believed, my belief explored and put in words were the aspects of unearthly pleasure that I could feel even before or without any appraisal. The fact that my words are recorded, the fact that I hold a niche in the unbound world of knowledge was more than an accomplishment that inspired me to work on my next project.
This is my first so called "blog" or perhaps far from that too. While, as I emphasized on my one project inspiring me to do the other, I am still keeping away from commiting my schedule to my blogsite. Quite paradoxically to the experience shared earlier, I believe that every work of art has a shell life. How long that will be, depends on the elegance of that art. Further comment on this view could be debatable. Hence I stop. I must thank those who had put an effort to read this completely non-informative work of mine and request pardon for the amateur writer for mistakes, if any.
ArianHeart
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