written by: Arnit Dey
I once sat down on the cold hard grass,
And longed for the earth to be clean,
Once which was a feast for the eyes,
Is now a planet of solitude,
Heaven became hell.
Oh how the river sparkled they say,
But every moment now,
It seems to be crying floods,
For we squeeze the earth like a lemon.
Once which had endless supplies,
Now all wonder what we have become,
Our purpose slips past us,
Just because of that paper.