My passion is in the coffee mug.
Is to run down the hill, to sit under the tree,
To set myself free.
To watch the sun, disappear behind the clouds,
To tease you in the morning, till your lips start to bow to a smile.
My passion changing from day to day,
From moment, through the movement of life’s waves.
My passion sometimes disappear, hiding there under the rock waiting to appear
Cause sometimes she want me to try, to cry, to wish and call for her, that all the valley would hear
“Ohh my passion, you are my guide – Come and lift me from the ground”