The Festival

It's a very retro town,

going down the town,

dressed up nice

Borrow a cycle,

from micheal,

think twice.

Okay i'm going,

the crows are crowing,

full of melancholy

i leave the gate,

who says anything about the "high" infant mortality rate,

it's a festival out there, see 'em jolly.

Safely travel,

people and people on the gravel,

everybody dressed up and girls, nauseous

Women with so much vermillion,

Looks like bleeding, as if hit on the head a time million

Walking with their kin moving cautious.

Men dressed up as if to be in the band,

and children second in command

Oops!! almost hit someone carrying yellow pea

This is the 8o's, man,

everyone crammed in the neighbour's Maruti from Japan

motorcycles with people no less than three.

Whistling at the girls,

wearing dark lipsticks and fake curls

Motorcycles struggling and some zooming past,

in this rush,

a myriad of shops sorrounded by slush

i see the fair & the ferris wheel so vast.

The policeman whistles,

"STOP" he howls

no iff 's no butt 's either go there or park your cycle and WALK

A ban is a ban,

same for you & the President of Sudan

i walk to find the closed library block.

No novel to read,

to a shop smoking a cigarette i proceed

the unfriendly owner hands me a drink

i sit down & go back to the early 80's congregation,

far from modern civilization

i am in sync.

I'am also dressed up,

dawdling around drinking in a cup

i'm one of them

am just another guy at the fair

i'm famished got to catch a snack there

ride back and smoke some grass for Vitamin "M"