My dwelling, a tender age it knows,
And upon its youth, a watchful gaze bestows.
My dwelling, a tender age it keeps,
And on its innocence, a darkness creeps.
Riot's whisper, in Bareilly's heart,
Do not fire, do not tear apart.
Do not fire the gun, within these walls,
Do not fire the gun, where beauty calls.
Do not fire the gun, let peace prevail,
Do not fire the gun, before my frail.
Ripened mangoes, green and bright,
Seen by a world, consumed by fright.
A fresh garden, guarded, deep,
Where thievery thrives, while others sleep.
Within the garden, a tender bud,
Surrounded by thorns, misunderstood.
A thorn will pierce, the gentle hand,
Do not fire, do not understand.
Do not fire the gun, within these walls,
Do not fire the gun, where beauty calls.
Do not fire the gun, let peace prevail,
Do not fire the gun, before my frail.
Breath ascends, within the frame,
Sleep is broken, in this game.
Brother stands, and mother too,
Where can I flee, what shall I do?
Breath ascends, within the frame,
Sleep is broken, in this game.
Brother stands, and mother too,
Where can I flee, what shall I do?
Cloud's tears fall, on the courtyard's ground,
Restless spirit, cannot be bound.
Jasmine's petals, start to crack,
Do not fire, do not turn back.
Do not fire the gun, within these walls,
Do not fire the gun, where beauty calls.
Do not fire the gun, let peace prevail,
Do not fire the gun, before my frail.
Do not fire the gun, let peace prevail,
Do not fire the gun, before my frail.
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