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Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

Oracle DBA

There's a line in the sand Put there by a man By a man whose children who built the castles made of stone There's a child born To a land of scorn Sneaks past the borders and the lords that hold his hand He was led like a lamb All part of the plan This castle crumbles as he walks out of this land This is what we own This is where we are Living for the reasons of the dead that moved to paper from their heads into my fingers and my deadly view is strangled by the rent I have no purpose in this land have I forgotten how to stand up with the humor and the need I've got to find a way to be I just turn up the stereo I can't survive without the cold This culture's fallen off