Some cigarettes
that you have smoked
will tell you;
this is a life
where you must not give up
and keep trying
and hoping
for every good
that grows
from your breath.

She keeps
the photo to herself.
Sometimes
she shares
with me
the memories
when she goes.
And
among all
that
is stored,
her names
are the things
that cannot
be forgotten.
She keeps
her heart to herself,
and my heart to myself.
She keeps
the things
I shouldn't.
I keep
the discrepancy.

The art
will tell you
about the pure soul.
It is not only
about the feeling
in suffer or happy
when we create it
by ourself.
The art
will show
the other sight
when some people
don't.
The art
is not only
about the work.
It is about
life.

I fall in love
to a girl
who sits
enjoying solitude
in the crowd,
her long hair waving
hitting the shore.
She laughs,
and the world
smiles at me.

Loving me
or leaving me
will never change
the memory.

The art of longing
was painted
on the wall of sadness,
and yeah
you are the ink of my falling tears.

She's gone
left so many
wonderful memories of love.
She's grown
between
dawn and dusk.