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Pratham's Game 1 by Pratham

SongGPT
Pratham's Game 1 by Pratham - pop rock music cover art

Pratham's Game 1

pop rock

0:003:00
Lyrics
Description
[Verse 1]
Pratham laces up, the sun’s just crawling up,
Grass stains on his jeans, a ball tucked underarm.
Books piled high like towers, voices hum a drill,
Pages shout in silence, but his heart’s on the hill.
[Pre-Chorus]
He dodges chalkboards, dreams twist through the air,
Counting more than numbers, in the goalposts there.
Fingers restless tapping, on a desk that nags,
His mind’s on the kickoff, not those worn-out flags.
[Chorus]
Kick it, run it, chase the fire in his shoes,
Falling behind the lessons, but ahead in his moves.
They push the study harder, but his spirit’s lighter,
Pratham’s game is on the field, under sun or around the cinder.
[Verse 2]
Chalk dust in the textbook, his eyes glaze over lines,
While the whistle’s calling him to cross that faded white.
Tired sighs fill the kitchen, midnight oil burns low,
Dreams dribble past the clock where he’s really meant to go.
[Pre-Chorus]
He’s tracing perfect arcs, in the dirt, the hidden art,
Watching rivals yet, but the score writes on his heart.
Lessons weigh like backpacks, but the pitch calls louder,
Every step’s a story, in a world no lesson counters.
[Chorus]
Kick it, run it, chase the fire in his shoes,
Falling behind the lessons, but ahead in his moves.
They push the study harder, but his spirit’s lighter,
Pratham’s game is on the field, under sun or around the cinder.
[Bridge]
Late nights where the silence stretches thin and tight,
He’s dodging all the doubts, chasing fading light.
In the blur of numbers that he’s forced to claim,
He’s the boy who finds his freedom in the game.
[Chorus]
Kick it, run it, chase the fire in his shoes,
Falling behind the lessons, but ahead in his moves.
They push the study harder, but his spirit’s lighter,
Pratham’s game is on the field, under sun or around the cinder.
[Outro]
So here’s to the boy with the restless, wild feet,
Finding pockets of hope where the sidelines meet.
No book can cage the roar that he’s got stored,
In the heart of Pratham, the game’s never ignored.
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