Walking down those memory lanes,
Have you come across things so plain,
Shades that were just so simple, plain,
Devoid of any vain?

Flipping back through fluid pages,
Do they smell of sage?
Or reek of baggage?
You toss them by the fire place,
Ever thought, for them, a heart would set out rampage.

A stampede of complaints do you bear,
Along side a glass of beer,
Really do you think you are at the tear?
Queer, little defiant heart,
You really think there's no other distraught?
Any other who hasn't seen that far? 
Any other who hasn't endured as such?

A river of broken hearts,
Memories you claim to cart,
Really, do you think you are the lone on the dart?
Queer little defiant soul,
You really think there's no other who has a bigger hole?
Any other who hasn't played this role?
Any other who hasn't succumbed to other tolls?

You complain of shatters,
You complain of matters,
You complain of your voices that clatter,
The voices that clatter in pitter and patter,
The voices that don't die with chatter,
I understand you are muddled about givers,
Fearful of the chasers and takers,
But queer little defiant heart,
Your worries aren't only of the scattered.
Many others have graver disasters,
Life's served them poison on platter.
After this, tell me, your fluid pages' pattern?
Do you still consider your heart to be hammered?
Rather, do you just gather a sarcastic laughter?

Walking down those memory lanes,
Have you come across things so plain,
Shades that were just so simple, plain,
Devoid of any vain?
Queer little heart,
You've read only so many chapters,
Climbed only some years of the ladder,
Flip through the rusty pages again,
And look at the far off end,
Under the midnight ocean blues,
Aren't you just a piece of many worldly hues,
One day, you are here and the other not,
Is it really worth finding that joyful or mournful dot?

Walk down those memory lanes,
Come across things so plain,
Shades that were just so simple, plain,
Devoid of any vain,
Queer little heart,
Flip through the fluid pages,
Be happy they are memory of choices,
Walk down those memory lanes,
And reckon there are more insane.
Queer little heart, it's not all about you,
These voices, one day, will in turn pursue,
So what, may be then, you'll lie all blue,
Least then you be colored in a hue you already knew.