"Old wise man once said,
There was a time,
A moment that you can’t describe the feeling,
It ran through your veins,
Unlike slamming adrenaline,
This is real and thrill,
You know,
How yellow and mustard used to be together
and chilled.
The mood is rare.
Like a wind, blow your fear.
Like a moon, shade your tear.
Like a sun, shine you, dear.
Indeed, we thought it will forever here,
Until you miss it, knees stump on the ground
and you head still unclear.
Spinning day,
Now all are back to gray,
A name we won’t obey,
Triangle and arrow towards other,
Standing edge at the corner,
Humming Gloomy Sunday like an old-timer.
Tilt your face up to the sky
mumbling prayer,
Hoping and waiting for the rain in colors.
Greeting to the death as peace be upon to you,
Oh sweet dearest darkness,
Take my hand, as my gift for you.
While pointing at its highest,
Starting to grieve the blues,
One minute or less,
The thoughts about to get loose,
Now everything seems so gloom,
Just wait for who you will hold on to,
A man taps the room,
with an arc line on his goo.
You bet the orchestra is line up ready for the cue ,
Not till your reach in due and
sigh oh sigh, oh, He heard you boo.
A gesture for old sake is beneath you,
Blessing that all gonna be good and better,
Ain't now the time is cuckoo?
Trust the hand, smile and stand with all that matter,
Cause’ that's the feeling we all have been missing too and that’s the truth.
Don’t you too?
Bright your room with all these palettes,
It just a normal day with gray
Doesn’t mean it's for you to be cray,
Grey just like on the other days,
It’s sloppy but hey,
You and he will get there.
Personal note to stick on your nose,
He will be next to you,
as for the longest time,
You hope to stay up
in both coup, and now smile!
’cause we both know it feels damn right.
Destroy the bricks,
Get rid the paranoia,
The empty dark box isn’t paradise or cribs for ya’.
Ode to Lucifer,
Giving up his royalty because
he’s on fire!
Stop fighting with the mirror,
Stop fighting with the shadow,
Stop blaming the reflection,
Stop blaming the parallel.
Break the rules, it is all just bulls.
Break the path, we all get the part.
One day you’ll get that moment,
The moment you'll realize,
Survival isn’t about the one last man
to stand on the aisle."
Commenting in one of my post dated on last year. The wordsmith, who are you? #ouch