Artist: amber gris
Someone a little mean remains
You fondly raised a flower seed
In the manure in the water, with nice words.
Today’s things and tomorrow’s things.
Sometimes the hint of your humming
What was that achingly vague song?
I think it’s the old movie, the fruit seller in the slums travelling to the stars
You say it’s time to sleep,
I close my eyes but
Stay up late, just a little longer
I want to talk
Rippling stars; I hear that singing voice
Until the time that dawn visits.
Why is it that I can’t see anything
Even though I’m not closing my eyes?
Twinkling, dazzling, and gentle darkness
A small whisper; secret talk.
“On a night like this, I want to talk with you. How does the movie end?”
“You know, I really hate being alone.”
The colorful view of the shooting star’s tail
The more you wish, the less of a child you’ll be
Your eyelashes sway because of the night breeze
If you just overreach, you’ll become miserable, right?
See, slowly push the dome of darkness up
The shorebird’s chirps are a signal
The moment of dawn is all stolen.
To return your warmth to you.