"All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday." ― James Joyce
She was watching through the dusty window... The evening avenue... With dream-freeze in her eye, With hope that she can fly.... Far... from this place, From familiar lairs, She had dusted so many years, Was tired.
Who knows where she goes How long will she go She has to throw Hard life.
Now she was going To run away like the others, To leave her home, She was leaving lonely All her past.
Who knows where she goes How far will she go She has to throw Hold on...
She is walking through this dusty window This evening avenue. With dream-freeze in her eye With hope that she could fly.............