I don't cry papa, but the tears spill out
I don't dream too, but the memories sprout loud.
I ain't moving papa, my legs are stuck
So is the moment, and it won't pluck...

Woven in the time papa, here I lie
Hugging up the memories that tends to fly...
Looking through the window,all but fog do I see,
But eyes still awaits papa, widens to see if it's thee..

Time has passed by papa, wounds would've healed
But what about the scars papa? And the memories it has sealed??
Still, I don't cry papa,but the tears spill out
And I don't dream too, but the memories sprout loud...