Moments are hand-picked,
From this flow of life,
In the metal dungeon;
Some are nude, some are prude;
Some are vivacious, some are bovine;
Some are sacred, some are sacrilege;
Some entwine and connect with others.
Some are hung, some are electrocuted;
Some change, some fade;
These moments narrate an era,
Feed on nostalgia, drink on memory;
Weaving all these moments,
In a motley coloured fabric;
We call life……….