One day I'll die calling you.
And you wont pick my call the same way.
I know you love me and you must be busy.
But you know I dont call you everyday.
I sometimes see death from my eyes.
I see my soul leaving me slowly.
The senses leaving me one by one.
And in the crowd me taking it solely.
That time I feel like talking to you.
I feel afraid for if those are my last words.
And afraid of what will happen to you.
So I call you before flying of my birds.
So that you can hear me talking.
As you always do.
My words are precious.
For nobody but you.
Your this not picking my rare calls irritates me.
Its serious when my number is on your screen.
No chit chats no useless blabbers.
You must think it must be damn important scene.
13 times I called you.
Then was'nt left with any strength any further.
Anyways am saved this time.
There is nothing to bother.
But am sure I'll die one day calling you.
And you wont pick my call the same way.
I know you love me.
But you know I dont call you everyday.
