The man passing by

At crossroads we stand, As clouds gather above, Some say rain shall come, Some say it's just thunder, We look and decide, For the end is never an end. These roads don't lead us anywhere, We scratch heads and argue, A little rain happens, But generally it's all noise, We warm up to forthcoming destinations, But we just move along. Were we just meant to be passing by? Then what's the fuss with Aadhaar? It actually meant an address, right? A window, a stair, a bedsit, And then we went to work, And sat listening to Lata on lonely nights. We make a living, Pulverize competition, Create disorder for others, Shake their foundations, All to make some profit, All to bring a few bucks home. And we were meant to be passing, Enjoying the clouds and the thunder, Maybe having a few arguments, Maybe having a few hearty lunches, Then holding our satchels close, Just slink away into the grey. Long later some would gather, On a moonless night, A few drinks would be finished, Then one would pipe up, Remember that guy? And a few would nod and raise a glass.