The World is moving around and round,
But our heads are still, still.
Still understanding,How everything still fits the bill.
The bill of our will.
A will of our till.
A Till that is endless than our will.
Our Head Is on the Ground and
we are standing tall
And having a ball.
Rolling on the wall.
Till we fall.
And Become a Bomb.
A bomb that sheds tears,
Tears that taste like beer.
Beer that’s still not clear,
The world is moving around.
Yet , I am standing still there.
And my mind racing,
There,There and everywhere.
Wherever I could imagine.
It travels, with just the thought of being there
There,Where everything is the same and nothing changes.
But,Ranges from an accepatations to some expectations.
Yet, We are still stationed.
The world is moving around and round.
Round, still to be found
And bound to still be lost.
Lost and to be tossed.
World is moving around and round.
– Akhil Nanda