My two eyes seem dead
Like the dead rivers of Bangladesh
Where there is no sign of water now.
But within my heart
There flows a sweet river
Very dark and deep;
The tide of pain rises there
Twenty four hours every day.
My two eyes seem dead
Like the dead rivers of Bangladesh
Where there is no sign of water now.
But within my heart
There flows a sweet river
Very dark and deep;
The tide of pain rises there
Twenty four hours every day.