Our forebears were once alive someday But this very moment they’re lifeless Sleeping gravely in their unending play Let alone their contemporaries to confess No spanking strong skin shall live forever Despite the sumptuous or balanced meal Our fleshes will wear and tear either In less than no time we all sense the deal Alas! We're dead yet living today Buried in our beautiful or peaceful graves Out-stretched in the sunny mid-day Laying still like some sad Sculptures A non-chalant Life is not worth living Yet no one acclaims a silent death This morning afternoon and evening More than a billion souls loses its breath Are we are living physically dead More or less like a clinking cymbal Sending out signals to a distant friend Who waits earnestly for a February feral.