Friday, October 19, 2012

the drunkards



The Indians near the toddy shop
In the night they sleep on the concrete floor
The high they have achieved
Of cheap intoxicating beverage

They don't care about themselves
They are beyond their own reasoning
They just lie on the concrete floor
With dirty mattress sleeping in it

Some will sit nearby
Eyes seem so far away
Thinking of a time they can make it
But toddy blocks them the passage

They live on addiction
Of toddy in the blood system
It holds them the long life sentence
Forever they are caged into it

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