(Reader's note: 'zindagi' = 'life' in Hindi)

I have dreams about broken glass.
Well I don't know if it's shattered or broken
Do I pick up the pieces and count them in my palm?
Or maybe that's not such a good idea
It may anger the beings above
You see,
My skin and glass might be lovers undestined to love

Are things written in the stars?
And if so, do the clouds read every night?
Because that's a habit I should start doing
But instead i write songs i don't know how to sing

Do the stars also write melodies?
Teach me you sky gods
Teach me your patterns of consistency
Because right now the only thing consistent with me
Is my subconscious broken glass imagery

Should I get it tattooed onto my wrist?
I could carve its words of origin into my fist,
If i wanted to
But sometimes a canvas is best left unbruised
Like the skin on my body that's put up with my youthful ruse
Dear broken glass, I am currently using you as my muse
I speak to the sky's jewels
Who knows if they...