capital city

Home, a place where peace plays hide and seek,
but on the faces of homes in homeland,
fragments of sorrow are what we pick, during hide and seek.

Home, a place where unity darts around playfully like a child with no worries,
but on the streets of homeland, rubble of unity surges into holes like a frightened shrew
when they hear a distant creak.

Home, a place where euphoria cascade like unchained Ecstacy from its sky,
like a canyon with no grief, but in our hearts, there's a vase
where we water moribund euphoria roses.

Home to us is a fortress of agony,
where dreams are scared, for dreams are fated here to become a cloud of smoke,
where dirge surges every second from the mouth of houses,
where human blood mixes with goat, cow or sheep blood from abattoirs.

Home to us is a haunted house, where we go to bed with colourful worries
tossing bliss on its tail like a mad typhoon,
where departure is an endless song on our lips,
where we define home under the spell of grief.

END