I've been here before
Sat under the grey grey light.
Wondering if I'll die
Of the grey grey life.

I've been here before
Floored the pedal hard
on the grey grey road
Screaming out loud
What seems to sound
Like a grey grey song.

I've been here before
Couching on the stairs
Under the grey grey roof
Watching them passes by
Followed the grey grey shadows

And I ram into the wall again
Had I gone that wild again?
And I hold breath again
Had I got drown again?

I'm crawling back home again
fishing the same old key again
chucking the muddy boots again

All alone tonight
I stay up all night
All that I write about
is the grey grey time.

Have you ever travelled far just to meet an awesome singer? Sitting in the middle of all audience, you stand out with your mata sepet and ah beng hairstyle. However the moment she holds her guitar, and starts cracking her voice with the melody , you know that the awkwardness exists no more. You wouldn't care if she's a Malay, if she's wearing tudung and if you're the odd Cina fan of hers. Music binds us all, deeply within.

Have you ever followed blindly just to cheer up one of your boring Sundays? Standing among a school of small cute Indian kids, you blow the balloons on your hand, stick your hands into the freaking icy water together with them who have just challenged you or rub your ass against theirs doing some funny jokes. You are tall, way taller than anyone of these primary-schooled kids. They speak Tamil to you, expecting you to give out the lollipops clutched tightly in your hands, you shrug, scratching head. Looking at each other, bunch of you laugh your asses off without any reason. Laughter binds us all, deeply within.

Have you ever walked alone in the middle of nowhere, looking for the Hindu temple that you can barely remember found on the Google Map? Walking into the hall, you realize you're the only yellow-skin. Even though the light has dimmed down when you find yourself a seat, your skin glows in darkness among all. But no one really finds you odd, instead, accepting you as a part of the family, watching the member of their family dancing the stories of their Gods and Goddesses. The jingling of dancer's accessories and non-stop thumping of the feet on the floor wake you up from your same old conservative Cina dream, blinking at the beauty of the dance that praises the respect towards Gods. Dance binds us all, deeply within.

And here I'm back, claiming myself a truly Malaysian, exploring the identity of us all, savouring it like no one does. No one could understand why, neither do I. Perhaps, love is what we claim it is.

*Hari Malaysia is coming. Am working on something awesome for her celebration. Can't tell you what yet. But it's gonna be something non-political at all! X)