I try hard not to write songs for others

For it looks as if pigs fly in frames

Things are not interesting on red carpets

I sometimes wonder whether they really suit the banners

For the semiotics of it all is quite harsh

As the songs are not for their own

When someone ask, “is your spirit your own?”

I say it’s because we move from ocean to ocean

The panic in their eyes give away to sadness

Since they know I won’t tell the answer

Because the semiotics of it is quite harsh

As their songs are not for their own

With blink of an eye years turn forty

The difference lies in just days and nights

Perhaps is seen in desperation to mark new path

Trying to become a legecy as the artist

But the semiotics of it is quite harsh

As their songs are not of their own

I still refuse to believe it will end on day

For the honesty of reality is so imaginative

There will be similar songs to sing

For the demad fo rnew never ends

But the semiotics of it is quite harsh

As the songs are not of their own

As these words are leaving my pen

So shall I need to take care?

For I feel I created a machine

That help all travel into time since,

The semiotics of it all is quite harsh

As the songs are not of their own

I want these songs to resonate me for,

They are the reasons I didn’t smile back

Under the shell of heaviness of mind

Those relations can be termed abusive

For the semiotics of it is quite harsh

As the songs are not of their own!