Knock, knock, who’s there?
Are you love? Are you lust?
Knock, knock, who’s there?
Are you a poison? Are you a cure?
You see, I have a love-and-hate relationship with love itself
I don’t intend to make it worse or change my orientation
The world is too spontaneous for declaration, whatsoever
Maybe we should just go back to the days of secret admirers
Where love letters and chocolates were slipped into lucky lockers
Life was full excitement
But soon you’ll get tired, soon you’ll get tired
Knock, knock, who’s there?
Are you the one? Or, are you like, number ten?
Knock, knock, who’s there?
Why did you come in?
I… don’t think I invited you in
You see, I have a love-and-hate relationship with love itself
I don’t intend to make it worse or good lord, change my orientation??
The world is too spontaneous for confirmation, whatsoever
Maybe we should just go back to the days of secret admirers
Where love letters and chocolates were slipped into lucky lockers
Life was full excitement
But soon you’ll get tired, soon you’ll get tired
Soon you’ll get tired
Soon you’ll get tired
Soon you’ll get tired
Soon you’ll get tired
Soon you’ll get tired
Of wonderment
- Wani Ardy
with major grey coloured batik print long trousers and white camisole.
i just finished cleaning the house - well, a bit.
now i'm tired. i want to take a little nap.
seven days tomorrow. will it be?
