Why are people called strangers?
They're just humans too.
They have eyes and noses.
They do what they do.

We make connections to people.
We just don't know it.
Looking at them straight in the eyes.
Creepy, you can call it.

But then we take another look at them.
And somehow try to send a smile.
The he or she smiles back.
You know you felt happy for a while.

So how could you say we are strangers?
If  nothing with us differs?

Maybe I'm not perfect.
Maybe I'm not right.
Maybe I'm a mess.
Or maybe I'm not fine.
Maybe all these things are just excuses.
But to me, they're all the same.
Maybe I make all these stuff in my head.
Just for me to forget that I'm the one to blame.

I just want to be a kid again.
Maybe when I was still ten,
life used to be so easy then.
But of course, reality strikes again.

Why can't we be a kid again?
No work, just playing in the play pen.
Play alone or play with a friend.
How I wish that it never ends.

But all is based on the "now".
Hoping to find ways to be a kid, somehow.
Whether it was the time I still looked like an angel.
Or the time I still didn't know anything, and was in a cradle.

If only she can be anybody,
She wishes she wasn't she.
If only everyone could see,
How stupid she can be.

Hopeless, dumb and ugly.
No words wih beauty.
All she wants is to be free.
And sadly, that she is me.

I see you walk.
I hear you talk.
I see you smile.
I smile too for a while.

I noticed that you have it all.
But one time, I see you fall.
I pick you up and just leave you.
You asked me what am I up to.

I just kept on walking and going.
So you wouldn't see me crying.
I shouted "Nothing more, nothing less."
Because the truth is, without you, I'm nothing but a mess.