This what I call,
go back
I'm yielding

This what I'll call
when I grow old
Memory stays

Not only pictures talk
Or taking pics with my stupid outfit
Or make a pose with beer
And some dirty talks with photographer

Not just seeing hanging drawing
Not just clapping my hands for jazz on the street

This is a coming-back trip
This is a return-home holiday

To find my self
in full shape
Full length of understanding
mending pieces of yesterday's feeling

Not just put my legging on
And my mini skirt
And let my self dance hard all nite
with trance
with shadows

This is a home-coming journey
This is life illuminated by new dawn

This is me,
returning back home

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