some of my songs

some of my songs are all about you

you're everything beauty and so true

they can't sing themselves, even with help from the moon

so I have to bring them to you

when I sing, though so far from you

never before like now I miss you

If I can't sing my heart, I think there's no one else could

so I have to bring them to you

some of my songs are all about you

they are yours to measure

how much I'm crazy for you

some of my songs, oh, are all about you

they colored my heart when I'm feeling blue

I hope they'll do that to you

Gothical

by the trace of those bitter songs,

one find bits tattered along,

tell tales of ancient glory,

and sighs of looming weary,

what's missed are forever more lost,

retired to folds of chilling frost,

distant chanting encores mourning,

lifeless forms holds daunting eerie.

too fast

Today might be too late

Tomorrow beyond repair

What happens now isn't here to stay

As the river of time carry it away

Too fast, too soon

Too smart for no one's good

Too hot, too much

Too pointless to dwell in gloom

Chances are you'll miss it

Chances are you won't even miss it

The second chances here and there

Second counsel just out of this ear

STAY!

Stay! at least, awake till dawn when

light break through the darkest of a day

Once seemed an enduring despair

subside in sun's piercing ray

you can't catch that train of glory

or draw life from your pale reflection

you can't fly until you first fallen

or took a punch in the face

Stay just a while longer, and stay

trying just a little harder

That dim light is yet to shine, as you know

The world would never surrender

Stay! though your heart is weary

Stay! though it's troubled with worries

but if you stay and wait in patience

You'll stay when a new day begun.

I stumbled across a pen

All through with my toddler years

I stumbled across a pen

by power it bears give voice to my dreams

and make self-determined amends

that I cling to which I must rid

by fruits it yield savor sweeter than all

time stilled since I first taste it

only present suffice a solace

that gleeful sorrow upon our end