Kyoto Cafe

Raindrops trace the glass, a lazy race to the sill Streetlights bloom in neon haze, the city's standing still Got my headphones on, a coffee cup is warm in my hand Open up the textbook, making sense of the plan Vinyl crackle on the beat, a soft and steady hum In this little bubble, the outside world is numb It's that quiet cafe feeling, that lofi afternoon Where the clock hands start to blur beneath the silver-grey moon Just a simple melody, a kick and then a snare

Drifting on the rhythm, without a single care And the hours feel like minutes, and the work just seems to flow In the echo of the keyboard, watching ideas grow Steam curls from the porcelain, a ghost above the brew In the margins of the chapter, I'm sketching something new A face, a word, a random thought, a pattern, a design Losing track of everything, but staying right in line The beat loops back around again, familiar and so deep Sinking into focus while the rest are fast asleep

It's that quiet cafe feeling, that lofi afternoon Where the clock hands start to blur beneath the silver-grey moon Just a simple melody, a kick and then a snare Drifting on the rhythm, without a single care And the hours feel like minutes, and the work just seems to flow In the echo of the keyboard, watching ideas grow All the noise is filtered out, it's just the page and me A gentle wave of clarity, as simple as can be No pressure and no panic, just a calm and easy pace

Finding my own tempo in this quiet, sacred space It's that quiet cafe feeling, that lofi afternoon Where the clock hands start to blur beneath the silver-grey moon Just a simple melody, a kick and then a snare Drifting on the rhythm, without a single care And the hours feel like minutes, and the work just seems to flow In the echo of the keyboard, watching ideas grow