The Mask

The land of living has been Possessed by masqueraders, No need of faces to be seen; The land is a mask, It's the celebration Of desolation. The smiles of the schemers Are seen in every city! Only they decide who will live And who will die. And the life we die. There is neither wrong Nor right time Not white nor black either And not half-caste And no one really knows Whether to live on what we can find Or how our lives are twisted In the throes of fate. Silence flows through us... We have nothing to say: Unwilling to explain Unable... to find words For all there is to say. We feel the need to hide our faces.