Scribbling on the pages,I've been waiting for ages
for YOU to come along.
the morning passed by,the sun looks so shy
and I"m trying to figure out what went wrong.

Sometimes you come on the flights of a wet crow
Sometimes with an old song that I used to know
Sometimes in the sixth string on my guitar
In the clouds between the hills,rising from far.

You come, and the moment I realize,you're gone.

My memories get drenched a bit
My hands get shaken a bit and
My thoughts get filled a bit BUT
all I left with YOU being gone.

When the wounds of memories get healed by
the life's new promises of disaster, I called for you.
Waiting for you to respond to this ancient call
which sometimes a lie and sometimes feels so true...