I’m damn bad at writing things.

I’m damn bad at writing things down; but guess what, you make me talk.
I’m not confident of the words I utter; but guess what, you make me knock.
Knock; at your red door, cautious of your bubble that would burst any instant
Let’s take that random late night run, a moon light walk.

Walk like we took at that bridge of Clarke Quay
Not sure about the shots of Mount Gay rum, one two or three
Three, was the number of dates we went on.
We should have done a coffee or may be just a little green tea.

Tee like woods would, back in 2009
Soar like an eagle without whiskey or wine
Wine is what we should have the next time we meet
Tea,Wine, Whiskey, Rum; with you everything is a treat.

Musings is what I utter and what you read
For a change this is my music, this is my creed

I’m bad at writing things but with you, I feel like I’m on weed.

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