I wonder how lines on palms tell of your story... I wonder how lines on palms tell of your story...

Walking down the streets I realized, That sky with splashing vibrant aura... Walking down the streets I realized, That sky with splashing vibrant aura...

January, February, March, The cold is harsh. January, February, March, The cold is harsh.

What if we were all birds, And that too the free ones. What if we were all birds, And that too the free ones.

People have ruined for me the excitement for happiness People have ruined for me the excitement for happiness

The rain whispered a story.... The rain whispered a story....