Morning; a special ritual starting the day Dazed by the dreams of a second ago, foggy faces hover over my head The sway of my hand flickers the light bulb, revealing the colors I hid inside Green brushes my nose; scent of the bamboo trees Dark-red shadow stains a woman’s hairline A step closer to her but further she goes ahead Between the distance—stripes of light and dark Repeatedly, my eyes blink although lids wide-open, then forever again bury the scene in my dust Noon; mimicking a while ago dream Stoplights show the green, but none can give off the scent We follow the roads where cars yell at each other So—disguised as a modern man, I dream of the rebel Sometimes in life, I wish to wander like a boy lost in mistaken places. Yes, sometimes in life, memory tries to breathe under my vinyl clothes. When the green of the houses rubs my lost soul, it feels like I could reach the tip of her dark hair But look! My hands are spoiled by gasoline Motor shouts my duty as a delivery man Though I've truly wanted to be lost The screen gives a new address of faked dreams Dragged by this machine I ride, Good-bye; but sometimes it's hard to say so