So He's Leaving The House Behind

A little house, with an open, moving couch, 

and some broken panes of it will be leaving here so dry.  

Rays of Sun, along with some days of fun, 

sudden turns of time, here never will arrive.  

Flute symphonies, and those smooth harmonies, 

will never get back, maybe won't give try 

to wake the spirit up, to make the lyric stuck, 

some empty souls of past, today's gonna be left behind.  

  

Half-written poems will be sleeping here forever 

'cause the little, thinking writer boy has gone away to play.  

He thought it's getting worst, world isn't good at most, 

at least it can't be frosted every day by day.  

  

Today people can't read, 'cause they're busy in playing tricks, 

only the 'Need of Simplicity' is the need of them tonight.  

Where all the poems are done, but still people need to learn, 

he can't be shrunk in his house, so he moved to outer side!  

  

Lonely corner's scream says, "Go, fulfill your dreams, 

don't be worried 'bout us, we'll be silent as we stay!  

It is nothing but a house at all, this is all about a call, 

and we'll be just right beside, we'll be all on your way!