I feel like I'm just a piece of used paper, a piece of old newspaper, a feather,
just drifting about,without a destination. I just drift, without anyone to care.
I don't know the mistakes I've done. All I know, everything I do, that went wrong.
I should just drift where the wind blows. I just drift, slowly and gently.
If its meant for me to land on a familiar ground, I don't mind.
And if it doesn't, I just drift until I reach my heaven.