Pages all empty ,
written fate, its not upto us, its destiny dat doesnt wait,
it wont wait for u to open ur eyes, or see wats bare,
it always craves for sumthyn wich is not there,
beauty is plenty, love is true, unfortunately those who see it are only few.
If i were to die tomorrow, could it be destiny ?
I dont know how and i dont know when,
probably when u least expect it then,
imagine a book in hand ,
to write ur life,
When things are what we see them to be,
we percieve them to be happy and free,
no new adventures no accidental smiles,
no 1 to hurt u or hold u for a while,
so take each breathe, every minute, every day,
like an open book written in every way.
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