Lies beneath there,
the hustle and bustle of tears of happiness and sorrow,
chatters and fights,
nudges and memories,
all down the dark phantom lane,

The empty corridor tells the story,
a story that remained a true home to multifolds,
lit by the lights of the nations then,
and dim by the shades of their darkness now,
the empty corridors goes on and on,
long and dark like the bridges of the city at night,
cheerful and quiet like the forests of Amazon.
The walks of the lost and the minds of the lonely,
Here begins and ends our frenemity,
all the way goes our empty corridors..