Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts

Alone

Thursday, December 22, 2011 by B.H.


In the sky, the sun and the horizon reach a truce and a kind of transformation takes place that engulfs every care as soon as the call for the evening prayers is heard. And the kids who had been playing – get called in one by one…just like the birds…how they vanish into thin air just as the twilight glow of my morning engulfs everything completely. Like those kids who were made to discontinue their play, I’ve started to resent the nights too. But we need not. As lively as the day looks, as much as you enjoy a conversation with a lovely friend, it has to end at some point. Everything is notoriously variable.

Because today, I learnt that nothing bad ever happens when you are made to adjust in some seemingly boring place. And I'm left with my insecurities and anxiety that evilly stick their tongues out at me in the end…nothing ever happens if you are forced to live in another world with things you detest. Things just start looking interesting, in a slow motion though…like those autumn leaves falling through the air…like soot wiggling in the winds.

It’s not as hard as it looks to leave your favorite place and head for the difficult ones. It’s good to keep moving instead of staying there and spending your whole life going in one direction. It’s good to keep moving. And sometimes, standing there. Alone.
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Marvel

Saturday, November 12, 2011 by B.H.
You have the same peachy face after all this time, only a bit wrinkly now. You still drink in every lifelike nonsense no matter how irrelevant. I still see the tender folly and bright violet wandflowers adorned with myriad love in your tawny-brown eyes. The same somber expressions but surprisingly cheery when you feel like it, strangely mellow on some days - especially on rainy days, glowering when you read or write, deep in thought when you listen to your favorite songs and endlessly vacant when you walk. You have subtly deepened in a manner that I have too. And it's cute how you don't try to hide your teeth anymore when you laugh. Only your blackish-brown hair has changed in color, they seem faintly light and weak. Your dresses are still more stylish than you are but not a lot of people know about that. And humor, still hard to get but then, I have the same problem too. You're unearthly, lost in your own literary world, I love the songs that you sing in your enchantingly wild voice as you play the uke. And how you smell the old, frayed pages of the books before you read them. You're you and I live in a beautiful world.
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Oh prancing letters!

Saturday, April 30, 2011 by B.H.

Oh prancing letters! – aggrieving the mind,

Waltzing upon the – bending stream,

Meaning – ivory tippet of that lady kind –

Nor the zilch essence of a forgotten dream.

All the letters –– I can remember

Are not as fine as this ––

Musings of plush ––

Velvet-textured –– square paragraphs,

Profundity –– as deep –– as dying crimson ––

Scattered on the canvas ––

Hid in the magic box ––

And in the splashes of mincing bucketfuls ––

And sometime –– when thou playest a tune ––

With that buzzing bee of Potwar

In sleep

Yet upon thy golden palms ma’am ––

Each dawn is last, thou dost say.

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Nighttime

Wednesday, April 20, 2011 by B.H.

Like, when lilac-colored cotton curtains sway to and fro – and the moves are contemporized with the western winds. When strands of light leak through the gilded rifts from behind the curtains magnifying the aura. It is queasy, strangely, when the eyes are fixed on the rotted posy of endearing flowers – lying on the checkered floor.
...
Feeling nothing but numbness – standing alone…surrounded by the countless mirrors – reflecting countless sickish dark shapes and shadows squeaking something God knows what over and over again. Countless hairy clawed fangs filled with poisonous hatred. And on my right hand, they reflect the unorganized modern furniture covered with the off-white sheets paled by the dirt in a mellowly lit room and different scattered shades of inkiness and decorated with poison ivy in numerous strange looking pots. Thinking…about the pictures of us while passing beneath the ebonies, about the secrets that fled the hearts and wiggled freely with the winds and vanished inside them.
...
There’s too much anger in the winds tonight, beating back everything, papers squirming violently, trees flickering back and forth as if to grasp something other than the darkness. Trying to haze over my thinking. It is not merry because, merry it is not. Hands of the clock are speeding – until the moment that is supposed to absorb everything inside it, from the largest piece of the furniture to an empty packet of chocolate chip cookies lying on the floor.

-
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From My Book Of Dreams

Wednesday, March 16, 2011 by B.H.
I have seen,
The nights being showered with the scent -
Of when the lady-of-the-night blooms,
And when the desires become fragrant,
Under indigo skies and salmon clouds -
And in azure eventides...
Pressed summer damask roses,
In the notebooks of the wishful thinkers...
I have felt
Summers' winds blazing away -
The eye sockets of elderly souls...
I have seen,
The lush energy of rippling of -
The very first ripe strawberry...
And strawberry geranium hiding -
The patches of soil in the backyard...
I have seen,
The emptiness and sunshine -
My guests - on the same day...
Aircrafts spewing hazy stallions-shaped clouds,
In the month of March...
And thorny bushes bruising the bosoms -
Of freshly arrived lovebirds...
And paintings of dreamt up fantasies...
I have seen,
People searching for truth, innocence -
And even God - in mortals...
I have seen and wondered,
And wondered some more...
On ivory sand deserted beaches,
In the violet-coloured Mornings...
And while treading carelessly -
Over the scattered daisies...
And yes, I have seen,
Withered daisies, barren lands...
And people watering them -
With tears...
I have seen,
People ageing in moments,
First, soulless manikins,
And then forehead wrinkles, hollow bones,
And twitching eyelids till the end...
I have felt,
The crimson-yellow feeling -
Of deaths of humans...
And of missing the better days -
In the best days...
I think, I have seen -
You in my dreams...
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Verbosity

Thursday, February 24, 2011 by B.H.

I'll tell you what a dream's made of... The moment when a snowdrop windflower glistens against the Moonshine. An enchanting Ecstasy, a piece of mystic Paradise. Few prunella modularis' Chirps on a farsighted pine. Amalgam of feelings in an Exalted saint's disguise. It takes the air and moons on for none but a mislaid Joy. It yens for a lily-white daisy - the blood-red Dream. Then a fulminant Drift of fear and a winged-heart ally. That's how a dream open its eyes. But how it breaks is different than it could ever seem. A Cut of reality, pitiless Pain or glistening crimson Gleam, sorrow of Solitude and horror of Denial are different stories. It's like a funeral of Warmth that forbade the Cold. Funeral Of hope that shaped a shangri-la away from Trouble. A Dearth of tears on a mournful eve or when the night Trembles. The night whose hint is a long time but Wave is the year. And like a perpetually mazed sorrowful Twinkle in her eyes or when the Auburn Wisps whiten and when a coven of faeries Tumble down. When glossy Clouds of candyfloss glory flight afar. Because dewdrops are the games of morning-field of gazing grain - like Emeralds lolling down the bedewed blades of grass But there's a world dear, there's a world!


Last night I had a very bad dream about me failing in the exams again. I woke up at 3 in the morning and studied to satisfy the little frightened kid that lives inside me - like those oddballs I used to laugh at. Then the frightened child cowered in the corner of my bed and tried to sleep but just could not so I wrote those lines *points the index finger at the long-winded lines above*. I just had to do something with my sleepless night. To add to it, it was my exam today, Business Taxation. Business Taxation is my favorite subject and that is because of that awe-inspiring kind of professor. The exam did not go that well though. I was sad for a while but then I came out and found out that all my friends were rubbing their heads with a weird look on their faces and told me that it went horrible and all like all guys say after an exam. They said the topper will have to take the rest to Pizza Hut. And you know what, it'd be Ce or B.H. We are cool like that. I know I should not be fretting about it here and should be sitting next to my dad watching the match on TV or maybe I should be studying something for the next exam. Wait a second? Am I fretting? Nope! But I just can't feel it. A little misstep can make me feel so low.. I'm so tired.. I'm really tired. I want to sleep forever and a day! Someone slap me or something!
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daisy-bush

Saturday, February 19, 2011 by B.H.

Today was incredulously dull. I felt oddly unstrained. Strange because, I have gotten back into the race... race where time begins to matter, the blood in your veins races with the hand of the clock face on your wall, cell phone, every screen, building - everywhere - every second. The tick tock reminds you of everything you must do before sleep and significantly, of curbing any further missteps that can throw you off balance and turn your world upside down.



I want to write it all and watch the flow of the ink and the thoughts of this glum mind, the black fluid and the glowering thoughts spread across the lily-white page in archaic bards' runes. Every move of the quill pen smooth and refined. Neat.  I want to. But,  I'm contagiously distressed so I will  just send the signals of distress over to you.
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A cissy's 12-hour interval

Friday, January 28, 2011 by B.H.

Today my fave-friend the Ce got humiliated by Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated for asking a question about something that Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated was about to discuss.

Today, I learned all the three methods of recording cost entries viz. Lifo, Fifo, Average cost of material in material control ledger card and then posting the entries in separate ledgers under the mentioned methods and few more things.

Today, I smiled my best smile at something that’s a routine now.

Today, I told a friend what the word “sissy” actually means.

Today, some cyber friend I know for few months, asked me to meet him.

Today, Aimz made me a sandwich. That was quite unsolicited, but I ate it anyway, it was so nice of someone so not-really-nice-to-me.

Today, only Ce and I of fantastic-five were present and we had a great time together, we went to the café, we tried going in the Masters’ block to steal a magazine from their library that we couldn’t find in our library but we just didn’t go there because... Ce felt famished and we had to go to the café.

Today I told Ce that “Suck” isn’t a bad word, we, the friends should use it quite often… at home...ahem. He was actually convinced by the way I adorned my arguments.

And Usama was sick.

Today, I took part in an exhibition that is expected to take place in a few days. I have 70 Us’ issues and Bill has about 30 issues of Spider and few issues of Newsweek. Ce told me that he will take care of my stall, because that’s what friends do.

And I love it when some professor is being really nice to some dumb students. I realize that it’s a random blah. But, do I care?

Today, Doctor Saif was not wearing his glasses for some obscure reasons; everyone wondered what might have happened to him last night. So, majority couldn’t focus on what he was teaching.

Today, paper boy didn’t throw the newspapers (at us). I did not phone his boss about it.

Today, they did not publish Poets’ Corner in Us magazine.

Today, I found two pages on which few poems and love quotes were written, and a few doodles of an emo boy and a girl were there too. Poems were well written and sad. Ce told me that someone’s going to fail this year. I just smiled and prayed for that person in my head. And outside, I LOL’d.

Ce and I thought about playing volleyball, just thought.

Today sun’s not shinning. And it’s not really cold.


Today, I learned that they have changed Eman’s name, it’s “Raina” or “Ryna” now. Cute little infant Aww.

Today, Brown Sugar tried to do a prank but 29th of February is an oldie now, try again in next leap year Brown Sugar. But, I pretended I did not know. I like it when they take me as a fool.

Today, I haven’t still changed my uniform.

Today, I received a text message in the morning.

It’s three o’clock already and the light has no plans of going out.

Today, I thought about blogging but I had nothing to write about but I did it anyway.


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If I could Bribe Her by a Daisy

Monday, December 27, 2010 by B.H.
If I could bribe her by a daisy
I’d pick the fairest of all –
From Potwar plateau to Cashmere
Bereft she was –– of what I know not
A splash of blue –– a sprinkle of violet
Formed her evenfall that knew no night
And she fell like a night –
She fell like the rain and the stars
Like the snow flakes –– of the Yule
Like the autumn leaves –– of a maple tree
Like the petals –– from a “sorry rose”
Like the teardrops –– from the beauteous eyes
And perished in the dappled grass ––
The grass once she walked through.
Amidst the December wood –– by the ebony
Therein – lies a blossom
A daisy – it must be
She found a star – a daisy it was
That did hoist her –– to chirk
And cheep…
That must end the night –
A night so dark and hazy
But who must’ve dropped the daisy?
Who oh who?
“I bribed her by a daisy.”

–– B.H.
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The lone wolf in the street

Wednesday, November 3, 2010 by B.H.


Meager life, ample emotions –– and still it’s illicit. No, you can’t be happy for so long, no, you can’t be unhappy for so long. It’s illicit to live that way, you must fluctuate! You must fall, rise, lurch, dash, fall again and so on. And something known as “self-command” is a vague perception of nothingness, at least for me. I never felt it. Is it because I never wanted to be controlled by anyone even by me?
Karma, go to the blazes for all I care! Punishment is mine.

For I’m a fainéant being hence I must procrastinate it – again. I do not know what I am thinking, I do not know why I am thinking – whatever is – that I’m thinking, I do not know what I am doing and why I am doing and on a serious note, I do not want to know. Is it wrong? Whatever I’m thinking, for I can’t express it. Is it bad? ….. Is it normal? Or just forget it because you won’t understand.

Shillyshallying it again for I’m a fainéant being. Just give me the perfect cushion to fall for, I’m going to hell anyway.

***
...
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Till the words don't rhyme

Thursday, October 21, 2010 by B.H.

Smiling passively at the film of haunting past –– flashing in your mind before your eyes –– is the strangest thing in this world and yet it is the most beautiful. *smiles* as stunning as that illusive existence that erupts into reality right before your very eyes –– and flares an unendurable craving for a desire to be gratified. Only if we were not the two alike poles of a magnet –– in love but –– only to follow rites –– the universal law –– they repel each other.

Every time I feel at sea, I fall off…

Enough fallings off the edges... I should step back this time, step back and walk backwards towards the haunt and get overwhelmed with choler and grapple with the phantoms… claw their throats until they suffocate and burst into tears –– tears of painfulness and impuissance and finally batter them to death. I should walk backwards to make it to you…

Enough of our private theories… I’ve started thinking a lot. *smiles*

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Life is a Fickle Persistence

Monday, September 20, 2010 by B.H.


It’s funny, when life happens to anyone, none can define. It’s neither like one’s ennui in barbershop nor like one’s fright while roaming with a fiend in an unknown market.

It’s funny to see the sunshine and the rain – at the same time and to be hopeless and the luckiest at the same time. Even nature makes fun of you.

It’s funny you have something, but you’re not supposed to own it. It’s like the feelings of a kid in a bakery, gazing savory pastries with sheer craving. I don’t know how but I find it funny.

It’s funny when you find your flair, none’s there to appreciate. When you master the art of crying on walls and pillows, they offer shoulders. When you are (happily) numb, someone actually starts loving you. It’s just funny.

It’s funny, when the only thing you are supposed to trust – brainpan doesn’t respond to the fixes you’re in – at times.

It’s funny when you’re the brightest yet the dingiest gem.

It’s funny when you care (give a damn)… Yes it is amusing!

It’s funnier when you get used to this fickleness of life’s persistency.



And eventually you start learning breaking away every twist and turn – malevolently adorned – of the pathway – that is supposed to lead you towards the terminus. It serves you its swinging random lanes for the repast in a crooked fashion – to scare you. But you hate not it anymore. Life… Is a fickle persistence and we are the meek grace. It dances in its ways in its folly like a kite up above the sky. It is just funny when you exist only – to follow the rites and go with the flow to curb yourself away from the taboo term called ‘rebel’.

Funny when you wage a war against nothingness and eventually you lose.

And

It was the last day of the perch. It’s time to fly again. I just hope the new sun brings smiles and happiness anew. I have been told that I am bright, brighter than the sun.
So, I must fight every eclipse I face, and regain the light.
Because I have ‘something’ worth fighting for. I am indeed the luckiest boy on this planet I believe. And hopelessness, I will conquer! God will help.
And as Emily Dickinson would put in,

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.



If hope is the thing with feathers... Then hopelessness should be unfeathered.

=)
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The end – that was too soon

Sunday, September 12, 2010 by B.H.
“Stand up. Stand up. Make the difference. This world needs you. Your people need you. They expect SOMETHING from you. Stand up. You’re not supposed to give up. Stand up.” Advices and bitter glares… Blah!

It hit me like a rub-a-dub of any remixed mystic sonata, like some epic myth that has been resurfaced in my head, like a movie that you love the most – and sadly it contains those two little words in the end – the end.

The daze I am facing has been infinitely long and unusually epic that – I should have foreseen. Water not the wrong plant, I hear. But it’s not just enough to abjectly wipe off the teardrops away, far away! Because. They come back –– like the cuckoo’s call echoes in the vales –– again and again, over and over. So, I burn the left-over pieces and fly the ashes in the airs and burry the rest in the backyard and water the grave and adorn the plant inside and see it, hate it, regret it. I try. I try, I pant, I cry, I grasp the pages and screech and tear. I imagine myself running backwards, there – where I’d once started from. Hopeless on the green signal, I know that the heartache will not cease, it will not.



Beacon, we must reach out to, climb up and on and run through the hollow and the craggy dazes, against despairing storms –– pushing backwards, making us –– the buffeted –– lose the race completely –– is the negativity that we must curb.

To whispers and echoes – I must pay heed not.

Putting an end to it… The End.
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I was never like that

Monday, August 30, 2010 by B.H.
The phrases “I am busy” and “I have been really busy lately” share a really strange relationship with my tongue, maybe the same which the two opposite poles of the same magnet share, strongly attracted, my tongue seems helpless sometimes and slips and says it, I am not sure for how many times I have uttered “I am busy” up till now in my whole life, but I am sure more than the number of Lady Gaga’s fans on this planet. Well, clichéd? Yet again! Okay verbose again, [=/] not good, makes things lilac.

Yes, I have been really busy –– watching movies, fasting, dozing off, and chewing bubble gums after Iftaar everyday, talking to friends (Doing nothing, if we talk seriously). And the solitude –– that used to separate me from this world, and used to help me with creating things –– things, which I was (or still am) passionate about –– is tumbling down. I am getting famous in my friends and yet I seem not happy. I am becoming just another teenager now. But, like a typical growing teenager, carrying on my favorite activities with the studies and at the same time experiencing the breakdown of my youthful innocence, going through exaggerated dramas and breaking or making of friendships isn’t really my thing.

My way of living my life was simple, away from controversies and politics, but I am feeling awkwardly weird these days. “I was never like that” is another phrase –– I have been using these days.

But…

Well, you know, the change, it is an unchangeable law. With every tick of the hand of the clock, I see a change in myself – in my behavior, my body, in my thoughts, and in the people around me –– my family. The way of the quest about life changes with time. My way of looking at things and views about them have changed, I’ve realized. Like the gurgling babies’ drools change and it someday transforms into monotonous voices or heavenly sounds or plain noises, and eventually they forget. Forget.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

That’s a heavy word, in every sense, some times beneficial, and sometimes, not. When we forget, doesn’t matter. But when they do, it does. [I guess I have distracted myself]

But the point is that, you can’t live like “those” people who inspired you. You are just what you are; you can be influenced, but you can’t be changed wholly. This all is happening. I am no more emo, there’s nothing between the lines I scribble these days. Or it’s just a phase. Let’s see.
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So here I am

Sunday, August 1, 2010 by B.H.

O Earth! Thou my mother,
To thee, I bow, I smirk.

But might I fly over thee
And look for bread and butter

Dare I betray thee?
A million times dare!

So here I am, ended up waiting, waiting on the muse. My sire compelth me to stay
I know my toils’ worth, I do ask not for it. And I want no words to lose.


But what hinders me is the time
Appears a poet in disguise
A boy with cauldron of rhymes
The boy who believes in vat of lies –– fairytales, rainbows, falling stars and butterflies
Hath turned out to be lies
Oh why!

So here I am, O World

Waiting on the sun
Darkness all unfurled
The day’s just begun.
World torn asunder,
Amidst the white-hot flashes
I hear the rolling thunder,
I look down upon the ashes.

So here I am, Heaven!
Waiting on a prayer!
The bread that wouldn’t leaven
The pain I couldn’t bear.

Inside I know the truth
But my sins are not atoned
I, a prisoner of my youth
Thou, the king upon his throne

Here I am. Away, away from clichés like hurt and pain.
Numbed wholly, and they call me insane.
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An unanswered question

Wednesday, July 21, 2010 by B.H.

What do you see with your eyes closed? What do you see in a foggy morning? What do you feel in sleep? What is written on the moon? What does a goat think when she is alone? Where does the water go, where does it come from? Why does the thunder follow the lightening? Why does it rain? Why do we breathe? Why do you have to live?

These all questions have answers that I don’t want.

Teenage musings… change my life. Please.


Why does that star shine? What is God? Why is He? Why do these tears trickle down? Why do they stream? Why does it hurt right in the middle of my heart? Why do I love you? Why don’t you love me back? Why it has to be like this? Why not like that?

Possibilities are every where, spread all over –– more than dirt-grains in a dingy cemetery, more than the stars in the sky in a clear night from the highest point, more than all the flowers, from this corner to that corner of this planet. She tells ––– I listen.


Why does she tell me every time…? Dare I ask you something? She always tells me to dare? Why? I ask this time… She is speechless… She is still ––– motionless ––– still. I know she won’t talk ­–– answer.


I am the fickle existence ––– like weather.

Say something. Change my life. Please.


I beg, I moan.


I want this cliché to become a surprising event.

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From my pen, to my diary

Sunday, July 11, 2010 by B.H.
"You are an epic failure, who couldn’t even get his things fixed uptil this day? Day of harvesting!" I hear her saying with a bitter glare and I nod.

So silently, that I start hearing the inner me. A sore tear trickles on the fluffy carpet. And visions yet again come before the closed eyes as ever.

I, whose edges of sanity are always tinged with illusions and confusions. From whence – my delusion deposited in me the harshness and the bitterness – how can I get it fixed?

Beckoning are these major stunning lights of fascinating sinful, beautiful city and yet I resist – I strain – to free her grip from my wrist – wiggle and squirm, wrestle and twist…

And still she pulls me in the crowd – and introduces me with her friends – wearing the solid masks - despair. I even hate the first sight of life. I am not born for this – not for that – not for her – not for you but for this which starts from S and ends with E – the solitude.

Relentlessly pulling – my hand towards the people, she has the epic love for me, that can make my death so peaceful and heavenly, but I am silly or genius. And I try to flee, I can’t break away – the tension – Igniting as – now I want to stay and now as – I break through to sanities side – my eyes leak obtusely – as I realize, the place I’ve come back to… Is chock full of lies…

But I don’t want to stay, leave me, I love thee and I hate it. I am overwhelmed with anger on being piteous and yet feel piteous on being raging and then this monster – hatred comes – as I sprinkle it on both feelings, and I still have this monster – I’m opening the cage… But don’t go! I want you to hate you; I love you to hate you. I am the darkness lost in night, find me.
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My faith is shaking – meaningless post

Tuesday, July 6, 2010 by B.H.
It seems those things weren’t even in my blood, flairs perch in my mind and then fly away. My faith shakes for once I had the flair of touching apex in what I was determined to do. My faith shakes, when I feel unable to do this thing. If my faith shakes more, I shall quit. I cannot live in earthquakes…

Stare at my burning
The fiery shadows dance
Stare at my escape

The smoke carries me
Strung together the gray floats
My ashes fly free

The cycle furthers
This life is harsh and deadly
Learn to die freely


Life is too lazy yet a race, I hear every one’s concepts about it. Some call it a quest for purpose; some call it competition and those who have no purpose call it mere breathing, hence it all makes it versatile. For some the best life is the one which is executed everywhere. I shall wander off to everywhere, until I find you.
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I wonder...

by B.H.
I wonder at times…What if…

If music listened and ears played
If our brains were the problem that mathematics worked out
If trees chopped and we fell
If we were the tear that the scissors had left
If books read themselves, diaries wouldn’t be private
If songs sung themselves, pop-stars wouldn’t be famous
If money spent itself, society wouldn’t argue
And if Death killed himself, we would be immortal.

If we? Are we? Should we be?
If Death killed itself, we would be immortal.
Therefore the answer forever stands as no;
We will not. We are not. We should not.


No one should change for some one else
For it is against our nature.
Just as a bear would never make honey
And the bees would never steal it.

Forever yourself
United in you
We are alone
Yet one whole too…
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There's a possibility!

Saturday, June 19, 2010 by B.H.
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It’s a blossom in a tree. It’s karma deciding my destiny
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
I have never loved thee! Jumping in the sea! Blood spilling out of me
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It’s my country! But I lost the key! To the door of my immortality
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Gleams with refreshing glee! Trying to be free! I you and she
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Careful eternity! Unspeakable infinity! Driving me crazy!
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It could be thee could have been me but we never knew that she
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Ailing my ability! Why can’t you see? But you look happy…
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
About every story! I have to agree! ‘Cause There’s a possibility!
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