Accordin to karma, I will die by mistaken identity.
It's not funny, that fate is itself a mistake.
This is what I heard when I was just a kid, that my great-grand father died while he was walking
on a street on which he never walked before.
He was killed by a surpise landslide, old men in the neighbourhood said it was a case of mistaken
identify.
My uncle was mistaken as a Maoist activist who had the same name save letter spelled differently,
nobody's heard from him since he got arrested 8 years ago.
Recently I don't hear it, but everytime I was about to leave the house, my father used to tell me;
'Don't stand out, make sure you don't get found by the karma, don't get mistaken for another.
Alright? Don't stand out, grandpa and your uncle were also the eldest brother.'
So I walked out to the street, bending forward as I stepped on my shoelace.
Miserably and heartlessly, today's sun also sets, and the west wind brings a coldness.
THe darkness slowly shaves the sunset in the east that transforms the curtain, and the day goes to
sleep.
Indistinct contours and complexions, this is the beginning of a morning where pleasure amd money sing loudest.
The dead black birds start to caw, this is the world where secret businesses have the advantage.
I saw my father, exhausted by asking round money lenders, dragging an undetachable shadow from the roof.
A loser down on his luck, I'm tried of hearing 'AT least you are alive.'
The tears I had to shed for injustice have long dried up, I seeked desperately for a way to escape.
I could no longer stand living on a doormat, that's when I joined the family of my partners Ram and Ski.
Ski worked the street since he was 18 years old, the same age as I did.
He tricked the most wary girls, and now he surveys the deals of his own crossroads.
A sly and clever fox, a pretence of loyalty to his manager but never gives a damn.
Accompanied by bodyguards, his motto is 'Never miss the chance of your life.'
I take Thai powder and brown suga
