On a single bit of laugh I smile a bit,
On a single letter, an opening,
From the voices of our life,
It sounds a little less silly to say.
A dissatisfaction,
Pathetic the way it seems,
On an uncovered album of journey,
Over photographs that took,
One pace doesn't seem to be made,
An opening, a sacrificing time,
Open the clock and find its battery...
Over cell of time been talking,
From an edge to the grave,
Dead at the line over a year,
One face and again at one play,
A shit to begin from the ultimate lame.
People like me,
We're just no one to them~
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