He is walking through the nasty lane'
Every day he walks through the nasty lane,
Where beauty sells its pride and shame.
The flower sellers everyday nag him to buy garlands
He sometimes buys some for his wife and kids
He is walking through the nasty lane'
Every day he walks through the nasty lane,
From his office to home, it is the shortcut same.
He never looks at the happenings ever
"Dady, you promised you will help me in math today" disturbs a whisper
He is walking through the nasty lane'
Every day he walks through the nasty lane,
Today he is looking here and there absorbing the scenario.
He goes towards a petite figure that is leaning against the lamppost.
"We are over" rings on his ear, more he goes close'
He is walking through the nasty lane'
Holding the girls hand,
He buys a garland, today not for his kids
Not for his wife'
She was leaning close to him.
Her hot breath on his shoulder,
She is of his daughter's age.
He is walking through the nasty lane'
She escorts him to her small dark room.
With efficient hands
She takes off her dress, posing nude.
"You son of a prostitute, we are over" rings on his ear.
He is walking through the nasty lane'
She threw out him,
He offered the garland on her feet
He screamed out "Mother" holding her feet.
She have a baby herself, she needs money
She dreams to send him school, she needs money more.
He is walking through the nasty lane'
Every day he walks through the nasty lane,
Every day he holds a girls hand
Every day he offers garland on their feet
Every day they throw him out from their tiny hut.
But he still walks through the nasty lane every day.
