There is no peace in the nights
Leave alone what the days hold
Money and liquor are spinning
They have more value than gold
Vehicles of many brands and sizes
Whizz past the shops lifting dusts
Sometimes they gather in fields,
Sometimes amidst slums and huts
Colored festoons bearing symbols
Litter the roads, fields and streets
Loudspeakers blare long speeches
Poor men dance to the drum beats
Schools and offices are vacated,
Play grounds are turned in to forts
It is election time in my small town
People queue up to cast their votes
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