we're not good at counting the numbers we sometimes gaze the picture painted on the wall but as the time passes we forget during one two three days four five six weeks i never spoke but i couldn't draw a portrait yeah i fumbled my way and Saturday has come at last the red light stopped me at every traffic light whenever we wish the good wether it rains i'll return the freedom you gave me the watch that was left in my hand the time stopped in front of your house
