Most art Lyrics

On the brown wooden floor

5 . 5 am

The alarm clock that wakes me up

Is the sound of you leaving

Slamming the door

Slamming the door

Yeah that's what it felt like

Tell you a chronicle

So you better sit tight

Long time ago

A young boy lost a precious soul

So deep but emotions aren't so punctual

So many thought and prejudged

Dysfunctional

But the boy stood proud

And functional

It's not that he didn't care

but the feelings were delayed

Not that the feelings never came

But the feeling's not the same

And when they arrived

It was a crisis

A metaphor lacks, so abstract

Ain't like this

But let's attempt to explain the boy's state of mind

That eventually became the fate of mine

Like most art

It ain't Mozart

He wasn't well composed

Troubled child but the same as most

Eyes, ears mouth and nose

Built different,

Head, shoulders, knees and toes

Never bullied but he was ostracised

Felt lost in a weird way

No desire to socialise

But hope for him as he clung to a rhythm

A talent so paramount

But hidden

Like iambic pentameter

He was just an amateur

Making sounds with his mouth

A compositional manager

It didn't matter that he wasn't so good

Only that he did what he felt he should

And one crucial day he came to school in his blazer

Sharper mind than a razor

Electric like taser

For he had realised what was so trivial

There was no pursuit in the lineal

Dad,

Because I have stared at blank papers

And I have lived my life just running on the vapours

And I have let this world spin circles around me

In whatever direction

Even if it is not in my favour

On the brown wooden floor

5 . 5 am

The alarm clock that wakes me up

Is the sound of you leaving

Slamming the door

Slamming the door

Yeah

And then it became harder

Because life without a father

Makes life a bit harder

Harder to meet

Harder to greet

Harder to sleep

Harder to cope when you need

And knowing deep down

That a reunification ain't happening soon

Not once in a blue moon

I wrap deep in my layered cocoon

And pray for the

Fact my mind is out of order

Like a dyslexic disorder

My mind's a thought hoarder

My mind's restrictive

My mind's a mental border

My mind plays tricks like a skateboarder

My mind's a camcorder

Recording the thoughts for the

Memories when I was young

And he played a fatherly role

A few cheeky adventures

'til he became a blessed soul

Out of control

My mind spins

When I'm on my own

When I'm on my own

But life goes on

And you tend to learn a lot

I realised how lucky I was

For what I've got

Then I went

To teach the youth in Asia

The old part of me died that day

A blissful euthanasia

And funny enough

I began to feel whole again

Like a real person

Goes to show

That even when things worsen

It ain't for certain

Yeah, it ain't for certain