Slow as a bus traversing Edsa-Cubao on a rush hour, I’m taking my time.

Slow as a bus traversing Edsa-Cubao on a rush hour, I’m taking my time.

Time when you and I are trapped by its hands, sharing the night’s prime.

Strafing left and right, I’m avoiding trouble.

Trouble that never fails to catch me, every time these emotions bubble.

I’m lost, I am always lost.

Lost in this chain of frost, the cold night bounds its host.

Crawl before I walk, walk before I run and run before I fly, my mother says.

But this burning fire deep within me shall never accept anything less.

Make it last, make it or break it – I want you when I feel the loneliest.

One last time, make my riffs on this old guitar linger on your black forest.

Hey girl, feel the pleasure and drop the pain.

What a night it has been, till next time, see you on the next train.

-averagejom

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