Take your passport out of your cool backpack. It is time to do unexpected plans. We’ll get lost somewhere, lagoons, sea, full moon, creating history in a hotel room look back, only eight months, not much, dinning in some cool bars, while explaining foreign trading laws. Currently I wake up, your puffy cheek looks great now, took my uke and told me, how to play, how?

And if I kiss you on the top of the mountain with sea views, squeeze my face against your chest, ‘cos we have to make up time. And if you leave for a year I’ll write looking at the sky, you are the star, that is coming fast to bright over me.

Only a few months left in the city flat eating nasty beans and taking photographs. Used to make me blush, every time I saw in my bathroom your little toothbrush.

And if you leave me, for a year must be, I will keep our feelings in our thai notepad. And now I miss the way you tackle the events, how you grasp the dog paw, and laugh at how bad I draw.

And if I kiss you on the top of the mountain with sea views, squeeze my face against your chest, ‘cos we have to make up time. And if you leave for a year I’ll write looking at the sky, you are the star, that is coming fast to bright over me. You are the star, that is coming fast to bright over me, over me, over me.