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Working night shifts at a warehouse while saving up to open my own barbershop in Queens.

Queens After Hours

[Hook]
Night shift, bright strip lights, cartons slide in a steady line
Save a little, stack it right, shop sign living in my mind
Queens streets, clean cuts, one day the doors swing wide
From the warehouse to my own chair, I’m building that dream with pride
Night shift, bright strip lights, cartons slide in a steady line
Save a little, stack it right, shop sign living in my mind

[Verse 1]
Clock in at dusk, steel doors hum with a deep bass tone
Boots tap the concrete, cold coffee, I’m holding my own
Pallets roll, labels glow, every barcode in rows
While the late train rattles outside and the night wind blows
Break-room light, paper plate, I count every dollar
Small notes in an envelope, the dream getting taller
Forklift beeps, wheels sweep, aisles stretch like a track
I keep Queens in my thoughts as I hustle through stacks
A shop on the avenue, bright glass, barber poles turning
Fresh towels, warm lather, a little lamp softly burning
Clippers buzz, combs glide, clean lines by the mirror
Neighbors walk in, share news, leave feeling clearer
So I watch what I spend, make a plan, keep it tight
Every shift lays a brick in that storefront of mine
When the sunrise paints gold on the loading-bay floor
I’m tired, but the dream makes me ready for more

[Verse 2]
Payday lands, I divide it: rent, fare, savings in place
Every coin gets a purpose, each bill finds its space
Sketch the shop after work on a pad by the bed
Black chairs, bright mirrors, the layout mapped in my head
Queens on the window, my roots in the frame
A welcome on the door and my own name on the sign
Learn the craft, keep it sharp, let the service speak clear
Give a kid a fresh start or a grown-up a new year
The warehouse keeps moving, the conveyor belts roll
I’m stacking up patience with each shift I control
Hands get tired, eyes wired, but my aim stays steady
One day those clippers will be warm and ready
No shortcut, just a slow build, a sure-footed climb
A key turns in the lock at the right place and time
When the first customer steps through, the whole block will see
Those long nights in Queens made room for this dream

Growing up in Dharavi, Mumbai: tight lanes, big dreams, my mother's tailoring shop.

Thread Through the Lanes

[Hook]
In the tight lanes, bright plans rise with the dawn,
Ma’s sewing machine keeps a steady beat on.
One stitch, one step, let the whole world see:
A dream can grow where the streets run deep.
In the tight lanes, bright plans rise with the dawn,
Ma’s sewing machine keeps a steady beat on.
One stitch, one step, let the whole world see:
A dream can grow where the streets run deep.

[Verse 1]
Dharavi wakes as the kettle starts to sing,
Tin roofs catch the sun, make the narrow lane gleam.
I slip past a handcart, schoolbooks hugged tight,
While a tailor’s lamp holds back the night.
My mother measures cloth with a patient hand,
Chalk marks, sharp lines, make a pattern stand.
The pedal taps time; the needle runs true,
Each hem holds a hope in a thread of blue.
Customers bring garments, bring worries along,
Ma listens, then mends, turns a silence to song.
I count little coins in a jar by the door,
And picture a classroom with room for one more.
The lane is close, but the sky isn’t sealed,
A map can be drawn from the paths we have healed.
She says, “Make your knowledge a tool you can share,”
So I learn by the window, with dust in the air.

[Verse 2]
Years turn like spools, and the old shop stays bright,
Fresh cloth on the shelf, warm bulbs in the night.
I carry her lessons through traffic and rain,
That a life isn’t measured by comfort or name.
A neighbor needs help, so we gather and plan,
Share books, share skills, lend a tool, lend a hand.
No single stitch fixes the whole city’s seam,
But a thousand small efforts can strengthen a dream.
The lane taught me rhythm: the vendors, the trains,
The call from a doorway, the monsoon on panes.
I speak for the workers whose craft keeps us dressed,
For the hands often hidden that give cities their best.
My mother’s shop showed me what care can create:
A little room, many hopes, an open gate.
From Dharavi’s lanes, let the message travel free:
Make space for each dream, and let more people be.

A hype track for our basketball team, the Riverside Hawks, before the final.

Riverside Rise

[Hook]
Hawks up, lights on, hear the whole gym shake
Riverside, side by side, here to take the court today
Clap twice, stomp strong, feel the floorboards quake
Final in our sights—one team, one flight, one play

[Verse 1]
Lace tight, game face, shoes squeak on the wood
Bench up, heads nod, every voice understood
Orange glow, crowd row, flags wave in the stands
Quick pass, slick cut, ball snaps through our hands
Eyes sharp, feet set, lock in on the lane
One screen, one seam, turn the pressure to gain
Hawks rise, wings wide, sprint end to end
Teammate calls, all in, every play we defend
Clock ticks, pulse kicks, hear the chant hit back
No drift, no split, stay tight on the track
Box out, reach up, bring the rebound down
Fast break, clean lane, hear the home side sound
Final’s here, clear goal, keep the focus bright
Step strong, move smart, every quarter, every fight
Riverside, stand tall, let the whole gym know
Hawks fly, hearts high—time to put on a show