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A song played, and I knew that
I liked it from the very first.
No lies... look into my eyes
when I tell you that I didn't hear
a girl's song,
that I heard your voice
for the very first time.
And now, I'm convinced.

You look like the tear-stained memory
I had most recently lost;
you look like the perfect letters and
mails in the nth post.

You are the art that draws me in
by breaking the law,
yet you are the art that my hands
can never ever draw.

You are the poem that I made with depth
to numb the pain when I always frowned;
with you around, I still did not mind that
time and again, I leave myself drowned.

And if your name is in one of the trenches,
know that I'll keep swimming along
'cause days ago, I spoke, "From now on,
I'll hold on to a promise of a song."

It was just 11:11 AM,
but I felt my heart and mind
traveling back in time;

I was there--
back when you weren't lost,
when we talked through the post,
when we dropped the law,
when you were what I tried to draw...

... when I rarely frowned,
when I forgot who was drowned.

I was there--
back in January...
when I'd swim along,
when I heard that song.

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