The Trap Door

I float solemnly up there,
There is eucalyptus in the air.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

My city of smiling faces,
Of screeching tyres
And slithering steel wires
Stifles me.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

And I float slowly up there

Monkeys turning cartwheels
And snakes dancing to the same old tune.
A hundred channels shout,
And a million phone calls
There are two more cars on the road today
And three less septagerians.
The rickshaw wala pulls on…..
His tired limbs ……he pulls on......

And I float slowly up there,
The mirth of death poisons the air.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

The moons riding high
And it is the 21st of July;
Another glimpse of life
Another slice of my time.
Network of lampposts
Directing us down roads
We travel everyday.

And I float slowly up there
But there is no air anymore;
No one can break through,
The disillusion, the trap door......