a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

qi baingkuong & kuonglaim yayi - patterned trousers كلمات أغنية

(verse 1: qi baingkuong)
he keeps a pencil by the kettle, counts the light through morning blinds
stacks small mountains of receipts like paper towns he’s left behind
coins line up like tiny moons along the windowsill, precise
he traces margins with a thumb, measures kindness in device
when i ask about the future he replies with careful sums
tells me love is math and meters, not the drift of drifting drums

(chorus: qi baingkuong & kuonglaim yayi)
to him, the amount of money is a tidе that comes and goes
a soft ledgеr of moments where the smallest value shows
he weighs the hush of silence, counts the cups we didn’t break
selling sky on credit, buying mornings for our sake

(verse 2: qi baingkuong)
there’s a thrift_store lamp that glows when he explains the climb
how every folded bill is a promise saved for rainy time
he talks of insurance for our laughter, interest on our skins
of futures balanced on the edge of what our patience wins
i watch him add the columns, finger tracing each small line
while the day outside undresses into a simpler kind

(chorus: qi baingkuong & kuonglaim yayi)
to him, the amount of money is a tide that comes and goes
a soft ledger of moments where the smallest value shows
he weighs the hush of silence, counts the cups we didn’t break
selling sky on credit, buying mornings for our sake
(bridge: kuonglaim yayi)
sometimes at night he counts me like a coin inside his palm
a currency of comfort, tender and half_worn calm
i tell him some things don’t fit into the sums he knows so well
like how the porchlight reads my name and how the alleyzel bells

(verse 3: qi baingkuong)
he trades his shoes for thrifted wisdom, mends the pockets of his coat
says the world’s a ledger open, and his handwriting is hope
i fold my fingers with the paper, press a heart into the crease
promise not to bankrupt mornings, promise small, quiet peace

(chorus — soft: qi baingkuong & kuonglaim yayi)
to him, the amount of money is a tide that comes and goes
a soft ledger of moments where the smallest value shows
he weighs the hush of silence, counts the cups we didn’t break
selling sky on credit, buying mornings for our sake

(outro: kuonglaim yayi)
so let him count his coins by moonlight, let his sums be gentle, slow
i’ll keep the keys to kitchen laughter, let the quiet interest grow

- qi baingkuong kuonglaim yayi

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

كلمات الأغنية الشائعة حالياً