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.