1990 memories was sliced like a tuber of yam,
I perfectly picture the past from the lips of my blind grandma,
Her skipping voice pinched the wall of my ears,
The hot tears on her wrinkle cheeks makes it not a tale.
She told me how oily hand makes papa's neck bends before the justice,
And he became a ghost in another man's tomb.
She told me how poverty widen mama's eyes to the crayfish at the market place,
She planted it inside a black pot and jungle justice blew away her breath
So my plans changed when I clock 18,
I removed college from my option box.
The orphanage in me wants to cuddle life,
But the beans is very hard to spill.
I am the only hope for grandma,
The light of her inner eyes.
Now I'm in my 20s,
Grandma said I'm now a man,
That I can roll the table to the direction of my choice.
She said I should rise and stop crawling,
She said I should put on my heel and shine the light.
She said life is a landscape portrait,
That I should hang my faith to its four pointed angle.
She said life is a landscape portrait,
Wide enough to spread my wings.
