Dry lakes, numb hearts and crooked minds Croon together the song of praise Of houses that never become homes, Of love that stays locked in closets, Of memories ditched in store rooms. (Caption) °°° I chew my tongue Looking at bungalows and villas Peppered on depeopled plots, Eyeing white-haired citizens Clad in nothing but Adidas and Nike. I take gulps of morning breeze
