Wandering through streets
Whilst mind is still asleep.
Sitting in a willow tree--
Feeling the breeze of air flow beneath our feet.
Worrying 'bout nothing;
Thinking 'bout everything.
Cycling through the weirdest places,
Worrying not about getting lost,
But the memories that might've been lost.
Echoes of the vocalist,
Endless strumming of the guitarist,
Some may call us a hedonist,
But we're just a child,
Running through fields of endless possibilities.
Whilst everyone's in a deep slumber,
We lay on a grass,
Gazing at stars, thinking everything
Are just meant for us to wonder.
Scolding us won't matter,
For we're not trying to survive;
We just crave to feel alive.
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 7:38 AM UTC
Wandering through streets
Whilst mind is still asleep.
Sitting in a willow tree--
Feeling the breeze of air flow beneath our feet.
Worrying 'bout nothing;
Thinking 'bout everything.
Cycling through the weirdest places,
Worrying not about getting lost,
But the memories that might've been lost.
Echoes of the vocalist,
Endless strumming of the guitarist,
Some may call us a hedonist,
But we're just a child,
Running through fields of endless possibilities.
Whilst everyone's in a deep slumber,
We lay on a grass,
Gazing at stars, thinking everything
Are just meant for us to wonder.
Scolding us won't matter,
For we're not trying to survive;
We just crave to feel alive.