Where's that cricket crazy child and that unadulterated love
Where's that passion now? And where are those fantasies
Where's that tender heart? And where are those 4s and 6s
That was a wicket I used to bowl at, not just a log of wood
May be still lying on that rooftop, along with my child hood
I miss counting the days before the next one day series
And miss spending the whole night in front of that Onida TV
Oh the cruel memory, doesn't remember the world cup we won just an year ago
But that 1996 night, the semifinal loss in Calcutta, it just can't let go
Gone is the mind that used to crunch the required run rate as a calculator
That bond is now completely broken, the last thread was Sachin Tendulkar
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