The car is rolling,
so is the whiskey.
On the four lane highway,
I need only one to swivel,
home ground sir your ground my ground sir,
Banaskantha district is all ours and it is here,
crowded toll gate it is right now,
don’t pay this time make the road clear.
Sandy it still remains,
green taking over dry blue skies,
take this side road for my house,
a few miles then there’s food,
only bajra ka rotla, plus ghee, no rice,
that’s okay and it’s nice,
but need to pee sahib,
so stop here very moment on this aisle.
Dear turban ragged sir how are you,
hold my whiskey bottle please for a while,
while I pee on a discarded hut now left to grim,
and relief gives power to observe,
green land, bungalow, factory, and such prosperity so trim,
my view belongs to me not him,
he drank all my bottle and returned a grin,
sweaty feet mine, and whole of his body too,
not yours dude?
No sahib, been just walking by,
to my village nearby,
give me lift sir I live at the close sight,
a small village somewhere inside this road you are going by,
no sorry, we are late plus you drank my whiskey all,
not left a drop for me so good bye,
Time is to me. Space it’s unto you.
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