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Pink city, pink city
Pink city, pink city

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city

are stitching the lips of people.

Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless

deity on throne. Marigolds

are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,

stand still to measure

the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,

fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting

the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.

We walk on water, wordless, sightless

for the thin hope.

Satish Verma

---------------------------------------------------------

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