I washed my hands

Coz it's full of dirt,

But when I go outside,

All I see were mostly shits.

I stayed behind

And gazed around,

But 'til the end,

Everything seems out of bound.

can people live

When inside they feel grief?

How can people live

If money is all they believe?

How can people live

If, for them, dream will always be a dream?

And how can people live

If they think love is unseen?

I went back inside,

In my room, under the sheet.

Coz I've nothing to do

But to live with my own feet.