Chiaroscuro

Yonder, albeit the sun has drown,

The baritone seems to have left the crowd,

The 'sillage' of voice is left behind,

talks about some 'thousand miles';

The singer with a pale visage, 

left a trail of blood,

with some bruises and scars,

some by stones, some by staffs;

The world is a gamble,

Life but a bet,

Death is a lottery,

Life a random event,

Guns on heads,

Lives on edge;

Mothers on doorstep waiting for children,

Children but now gone to heaven,

Must their souls find some rest,

But what's gone never returns,

The pain of loss but sustains,

In the hearts of people who care,

Still, people do not spare;

The lottery goes on,

Lives played on and on,

Who is to blame?

Who is to be blamed?

Us!

So step cautiously,

The guns are loaded,

The Judgement defined,

You never know If your name is destined,

To show up in the Lottery.

Must we feel for the ones who go,

Chiaroscuro!

At your disposal waits light and dark,

What would you spark?

Must we care for the ones who go,

Chiaroscuro.