As she sings her little child a lullaby,
Gently kisses her forehead as he sleeps,
Her bitter reality strikes her consciousness,
And the darkness gradually creeps.
The guy of forty, sleeping besides her
Who she mentions as the father to her son
Was once her husband, the man she got wedded to
Till the day she found him with another woman.
Yet she solemnly sleeps with this man
Not giving him a hint that she's aware
Of his adultery through all these years
And the waste he made out of her care.
She's used to crying a river all night
Waking up fresh and jubilant
with the morning ray
With a calm veil she manipulated herself
To act dauntless and rigid every another day.
How great an actor he is, he must be thinking
For being able to hide his affair and cheating,
But when he hid his external satisfaction from his wife
She had been covering her internal pain all her life.