They walk for success which is neat, A cute cloning of tunes and beats, With a mix of West and East, Music hoots on a trodden track, The half-clad damsels, strange, Attracting people into their range, They go on with their twirls, Hushes, whispers, silence and stills, Choreographed to meet people’s will, Few hit the success tune, Tunes fuse so honestly, We can smile gleefully, Others shout so hoarsely, We shake our head sadly, Umpteen songs in the lane, Music will not go in vain.
