I hate to say sorry....
I ring a bell, for thoughts i sell.. one, two or maybe three, Sometimes i just, sell them free.. My thoughts are well, not well perceived.. Behind clay bars, sometimes left grieved.. I think, thinking is the key.. Is this world, world my enemy?? A bed of roses, when i was born.. Had never forseen, the way of thorns.. Well life is not easy, and life is not long.. Still people dont understand, they just bong.. I hate to say 'sorry', As i can explain.. so i ring the bell, Down the lane.. Oshan..