you speak much, but do you share
vì mình thấy một cuộc sống đông người khá rare
and when i was 19, i did a backflip and flipped the right side of my nose
because i forgot i was 19, and that my limbs now weigh of creative deceit
and conversational fraud
and sentimental hypocrisy
and as much as i see stories in smartphone photo albums
and catch up coffees
and home cooked family trees
i stay awake this late because it makes me feel like i am the only person here
and i wake up, when no one’s home
or i stay in bed until they leave
và rồi mình kêu cách không ai hiểu suy nghĩ
dù i prefer drinks alone, and hate when they define me
i hold onto both sides of one wishbone
wishing i’ll find someone who’ll catch the bird, boil the bird, eat the bird
and bring the bone i wished to me
và rồi minh share but we’re just turning scrapbooks of who we were
into who we are
and we’ll deny it if someone sees
because god forbid if someone sees
the love we never got and thought, and started with it’ll never be
you’ll never see me, let alone leave me
we’ll never breathe the pictures we drew when we were little
and i always knew what i wanted
until i had it in my hands