It used to be the joke of the family,
whenever she'd mistakenly use...
I still recognize the little girl
whose hands smelled of pandan cakes...
She was born with eyes
of crystal blue medallions...
Old men are more interesting
with their souls painted...
A constant poetical struggle
is to stroll through barren, forsaken stations...
In the midnight hour
when sleep won't come...
Watch the dark horse - the remorse,
gallop mid-cores through a race-course...
I saw a moon not quite
as full as you...
In the
orient seas...
What you see of me is a shadow,
I have already passed on...
Lull me to sleep with your symphony
Utter words of my tireless surrender...
Ladies and gentlemen I welcome you to my show,
please take a seat and enjoy your very own back...