Everybody needs a place at home,
A place of our own,
A holy place.
Children have the garden,
And the yard,too.
Don't say they are watching television,
Tell them a story, attend them-
They are back with you.
Keep the television somewhere,
The man follows.
It is his solace, and redemption too.
Oh.. He has the bedroom,
The place of his sanity, and insanity too.
Looking here and there,
I went for the bedroom first,
Where I found nothing but a closed door,
Then I chose the garden,
(For I always wanted to be a child again).
There was winter there,
I chilled, left the garden too.
And I reached the kitchen,
It was summer in the beginning,
Soon spring came.
First I tried rice and vegetables,
And one day, I tried a new recipe.
Put myself in the pan, both my body and the soul.
I was purified.
Oh.. But I was always an overcooked item,
An overburnt piece of meat.
No one liked to relish.