patterns and prints published on paper
proposing a picture the world will see later
impressions are simply mind magazines
a careful construction of concepts and routines

self-portrayal, to depict or to deceive
what kind of attention do we wish to receive?
are we sweet? are we stoic? are we relentlessly rouge
to fake a façade, or to stay very true

imprints of others are left upon me
some will last, but few will fade inevitably
so as i leave my mark, let the record show
that all i craved was a piece of me to grow

grow on you, with you
linger in your mind
like an image you cannot erase
like a moment you rewind

so patterns and prints, you get the gist
now i hope you see mine
not as a face in the crowd
but the loudest, on the top of your list

Metronome, take me home
When the notes get too close together
Show me who I truly am
Under all the lace and leather

Metronome, where am I?
The chorus or the verse
I swear the song was just beginning
Why is it a curse

Metronome, whose hand is this
Guiding me astray
Can we count from four again?
Im scared I'll lose my way

Metronome, take me home
I don't know where that is
But the voices say it's where they go
When they wish to feel at bliss

I hope it’s me you think about
When you see cherry-red SG’s
Because it is without a doubt
You I hear at the ivories

Pining over pine trees I didn’t grow
Reaching for something I never held
Stranded on a boat I didn’t row
Longing for places I’ve never dwelled

I try not to abandon reality
But there are dreams I want to see
I think about how sweet would it be
If you pined over me

Since you can pierce through sonic art
I'd ask you if 'B' now plays its part
No more tracing the frets from the start
Just riffs that echo my yearning heart

My heart aches for a knowing glance to see
The intricate patterns my melodies conceal
Thoughts that would pour out effortlessly
When a true fondness is what we both can feel

I seem to be walking on glass
Fearing I will lose whatever is existing of us
So I stay still and hope the moment will pass
A wrong move could turn this fondness into dust

I’ll settle for glances and greetings so brief
At gatherings, my heart finds a small relief
I think of you when I see gleaming ivories
So I hope I can haunt you through cherry-red SG’s