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Ticket Machine, Orchard, Singapore.

The True Story of What Was: Part One

I try to remind myself I must be something you’re not.

Let’s do it all imperfectly.

Autumn’s not so far away, and neither is this feeling.

I know there’s a word for this.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate, or loud and out of key, sing me anything.

Just lay yourself on the line and I might lay myself down by you.

You came, I think, but I never really know.

The True Story of What Was: Part Two

It’ll go on till we run out of road.

If I could say what I wanted to say, I’d say I want to take your breath away.

If you could pick and choose from the top of the shelf, it wouldn’t have worked because you’d be aiming too high.

Everything is falling, and I am included in that.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

As long as we laugh out loud, laugh like we’re mad, cause this crazy, mixed up beauty is all that we have.

Baby, don’t you weep, there is nothing as lucky, as easy, or free.

I don’t know which side your heart falls on but I know where mine is buried.

Somewhere our hearts exist independent of time.

How strange it is to be with you, how strange it is to be anything at all.

I’d be lying if I did now say I wasn’t intrigued but timing is everything here; and for the moment the ‘we’ is reprieved.

我想我很快樂當有你的溫熱

我不要你解釋我不要你發誓我只要你記得此刻你眼里我的樣子

Is it okay if I call you mine?

一年只有一次

你知道就算大雨讓這座城市顛倒我會給你懷抱

I’m loving angels instead.

You can follow a trail without even knowing you’re on it.

I trust the views of certain people I know, they look at Danger and they laugh their heads off.

Conversations competing for space.

How many lights do you see? And there’s one I just can’t forget.

情書。

The carrot’s gonna dangle ’til the diamond is appraised.

Each morning she wakes with a dream to describe.

This sweet day is almost weightless and new.

我坐在湖邊，開始輕描淡寫。

Baby, it’s a violent world.

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