Strings.
We are nothing but strings
In a galaxy of things
As much as she thinks
Inspite of all bought rings
And all the drank drinks
In this island of flings
Chinks.
We are nothing but chinks
In the armor of links
Of life and good things
Just relax, avoid the jinx
Stay within that mix
Keep dreaming until it stings
And live amongst the Kings
Till that fat lady sings
Wings.
We are nothing but wings.
In this sky of misfit things.
All the blue between the pinks
Of such unforgettable zings
As she kisses me and clings
Against all my doubts and flings