Oh mind, think fast I have to fight…
When I need only some buns,
Who gave me this rusty gun?
Who made and who paid for this?
It is old and may be useless to the world
But it spits fire and we have no fear.
They sell this to kill and fill their pockets.
Oh world, I had fired a lot with accuracy;
They say I am skilled to break the skulls
And hearts of the same skin.
Please understand, I am not a killer;
It is this machine which chars lives
I am just a tool to trigger…
Let me start fighting…
Yes, the bullet crushed the rival heart and he is down
My son also needs a bun,
But I got another bloody gun for him
Who made and who paid for this?
This gun is just like mine!!!
I can’t read but I can see
Sure both are made by same cruel hands.
Again, guns are the killers,
We are just tools to trigger…
We have same souls and same skins
But these weapons from the same womb
Put us against each other to send to tomb
We kill ourselves in wars with the rockets
And they are far, still filling their pockets.
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Ashker Nadakkal
kollaaam...
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