Count with me
Like I am still
Your baby
Get ready…
6AM is a lemon
One
you can squeeze
or skin like meat
A sour smell coating your fingers
sweet enough to drink
Noon is a can
Of lemon juice
Don’t you dare squeeze too tight
because sweetish sour
kills like a mother’s saliva
Number Two:
In our fight, under Pine Bridge
You called me“rotten lemon boy” yet
In twenty years, I will still be young
and to you my youth
will be 18 years
too long
In truth, time is a thumb
Sore and flat
green after salons
How can you treat it like a bomb?
When you are the one
who explodes so
I will be old
when I choose to
counting the seconds
until years are just
7AM again;
three seconds, two, one
until yours goes from
blunt, boring, done
In twenty years, I will be younger
Than you
Isn’t that right; petty mom
When will you pick me?
I don’t even fit the fruit tree
Like I am still
Your baby
Get ready…
6AM is a lemon
One
you can squeeze
or skin like meat
A sour smell coating your fingers
sweet enough to drink
Noon is a can
Of lemon juice
Don’t you dare squeeze too tight
because sweetish sour
kills like a mother’s saliva
Number Two:
In our fight, under Pine Bridge
You called me“rotten lemon boy” yet
In twenty years, I will still be young
and to you my youth
will be 18 years
too long
In truth, time is a thumb
Sore and flat
green after salons
How can you treat it like a bomb?
When you are the one
who explodes so
I will be old
when I choose to
counting the seconds
until years are just
7AM again;
three seconds, two, one
until yours goes from
blunt, boring, done
In twenty years, I will be younger
Than you
Isn’t that right; petty mom
When will you pick me?
I don’t even fit the fruit tree