In the race of quenching the thirst for life,
I am in the crowd of success.
The crowd where material is the symbol,
Climbing up all embraces.

May I know, who are the people on the ground?
Are they called failures with gracious faces?
The never-ending sky smiling on the scene,
Looking at the poor souls in the never-ending race.

The man on Earth gives a smile to the sky,
With a bucket of love and a heart full of peace.
Last day of life do not count a bunch of notes,
It adds up moments filled with love and bliss.