The visibly invisible roommate

Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a friend who lends its shoulder when you're low
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can cradle you to sleep like a mother's lap
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a tissue paper which soaks up your tears
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
To be a granny who reads out bedtime stories

Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be your punching bag when you fight with your folks
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be your audience when you head bang to loud music
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be your rough sheet where you can scribble your math problems on

Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can bloom like a flower garden when you romance with your beloved
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be an admirer when you pose for your own photos on your camera phone
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a bar table or your discotheque when you're 3 pegs down with your friends

Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a stranger silently listening to you when you're deeply engrossed in your thoughts
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a ring where you have pillow fights with your sibling.

Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a cooler when your body is burning 104
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a time machine which takes you back in time when you dig up your vintage photographs n reminisce abt old times
Sometimes all you really need is a bed
That can be a 'betting table' where you place high stakes on the Indian cricket team, that sees you cuss at them or sulk in disappointment when Sachin gets out.

Sometimes all you really really need is a bed
That can silently take it all without saying a word
That watches you grow up
That knows you inside out
That is friends with your friends
That is home for your soft toys
That never asks for your attention
A quiet roommate whom we all take for granted.

I'm a bathroom singer.. taintaintadaan!

It’s 12 am and I’m locked in a bathroom.
I ain’t yelling for help, but weaving a song. 
Ooo ooo don’t sing with me, yeah.
I’m a babe on play mode, buttoned my heart on my sleeve.
My hair is messed up, my lipstick’s smudged.
I’m on rock and roll mode, yeah.


I don’t have a guitar or a microphone
Yet I’ve set this stage on fire.
In the mosh pit, is my reflection on the mirror
Hooting, swaying and singing along with me.
The flickering tube light brings blitz to the show.
Splash goes the percussionist.


I’m a singer, dreamer, lover, rebel out on a rage.
It’s a song from one of those photographic memories.
An old classic that is dark, groovy and trippy.
Ooo ooo oo, don’t sing with me, yeah.
I know you’re swaying to my song on the other end of the door.
But it’s an exclusive show and it must go on.


Dance, hum, sing, scream, headbang.
Quiet, There’s a knock on the door.
The concert’s over. Go home fellas.
It’s morning and I come back to this empty stage.
I’ve left behind some tunes & I can still hear them


Today is gonna be a new track.
Come over for the gig, sing along.
You don’t need to be a rockstar to be a singer.
All you need to be is a bathroom singer
On  rock and roll play mode.
Ooo oo, rock and roll, rock and roll..