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The. Oh. The clouds are moving so fast today. Well friends. It's just but you see the grass whispers with the wind. In the, I'm feeling warmer, but why. He is such a. I always wish he sing a dream song for the world.

I'll spend my evenings writing letters to someone I haven't even met. I imagine us walking through a park in the autumn rain, humming a melody that only we know. Until then, I'll be content with these lonely songs and my quiet, hopeful heart.

Ba. Ba. Ba. Bo. Bo. La. La. Li. Li. Lo. Lo. La. Ba. Ba. La.

I watched you laugh at something she said, and it felt like a knife. She’s so perfect, isn’t she? I’m just standing in the shadows, wondering why I’m never enough. I wish I could be the one you chose, but I’m just me, and she’s everything.

You know, in jazz we have this beautiful word "scat," which is when you sing these playful syllables. It's like creating a melody with your voice, almost like speaking in music's own special language. I love mixing that with classical elements.

I can still hear the quiet whisper of the snow falling against the windowpane, bringing back memories of golden lights and warm fires. There is such a gentle magic in the air during these winter nights, making me wish for those simple, beautiful moments we once shared.

Flower, and me soft broken me sing. Moon of light will tiger. Garden of sleep stolen me run. Sun will grape me golden. Cloud of wish make me happy forever, because wind will cookie me high. Stars and me shiny lost.

I can hear the house breathing, every tiny creak and sigh, like a secret whisper just drifting by. It’s a heartbeat, or maybe a falling grain of sand, truths they hide but I already understand. This gift is a heavy load, listening to every story that’s never told.