All days are not the same. Some go by quicker than the other. The motivation to work is lesser in general .  Me and all my friends, Stuck in the rat race unhappy, But we work none the less, Dreaming of the promise of tomorrow. Dream of a musical tomorrow, One filled with songs and poetry, Free of expectations and dependence, Eagerly anticipating the future. This is how we live, Going through our mundane life, Fantasizing a parallel universe where, Our childish dreams are a reality. Though all don't come true, A fraction of fantasy happen, We find happiness knowing, Here we are, living a reverie. May be, bliss lies in the mix, May be, this is what we dreamt off, Persevering through all the insignificance, To live the moments of substance.