作词 : Sam Ock 作曲 : Sam Ock "[V1] doesn’t it seem strange, that even when your mind says so your hearts says “no, just wait and see how it feels to fall in love with something real” mysteries of life speak the metaphysical, a world so full of life oh Christ, it must be You! the melody it leads me to...
[Chorus] something divine in the perfect harmony with a lovely melody crafted with care and it leads me to hear…
[V2] call it theory but i want to call it life math. call it melody but i call that my soul’s path call ‘em chords and let ‘em pluck the heart strings. call ‘em instruments but they’re with what the heart sings the semiotics and semantics of a man’s life through the language of harmony, the soul’s knife dividing moments in the memory, the many scenes and i embrace the deepest part of me, bittersweet the boom bap beat or maybe how the horns play. the soft touch of keys put some color in my grey take me to a place of mine, there’s the real me. no mask, just the mirror called the music, see call me overly romantic or religious. i feel impressions of the Maker in the rhythms and many times i feel my words amount to nothing, but in a song, there is something… "
作词 : Sam Ock 作曲 : Sam Ock "[V1] doesn’t it seem strange, that even when your mind says so your hearts says “no, just wait and see how it feels to fall in love with something real” mysteries of life speak the metaphysical, a world so full of life oh Christ, it must be You! the melody it leads me to...
[Chorus] something divine in the perfect harmony with a lovely melody crafted with care and it leads me to hear…
[V2] call it theory but i want to call it life math. call it melody but i call that my soul’s path call ‘em chords and let ‘em pluck the heart strings. call ‘em instruments but they’re with what the heart sings the semiotics and semantics of a man’s life through the language of harmony, the soul’s knife dividing moments in the memory, the many scenes and i embrace the deepest part of me, bittersweet the boom bap beat or maybe how the horns play. the soft touch of keys put some color in my grey take me to a place of mine, there’s the real me. no mask, just the mirror called the music, see call me overly romantic or religious. i feel impressions of the Maker in the rhythms and many times i feel my words amount to nothing, but in a song, there is something… "
