I may not have been a grown man yet

Despite all the thoughts running in my head

Every complicated sentences I might have said

The lies I told without breaking any cold sweat

I may not even have been a teenager yet

Still trying to paint the world with my ideal palette

Shuddering from pains and any kind of threat

Tuning my strings and seeking the right fret

I might still have been a little boy trapped in his delusions

Making stabs in the dark, coming up with my own conclusions

Blaming the inequity of life to my ineradicable mistakes

Paying for my sins to the heaven no matter what it takes

I might still have been a little boy

Falling into the charm of your idiosyncrasy

It's not a curse, just this wizardry of love

Only to the future, I would be able to plea

a chickadee in love with the sky,

Andri Kurniawan