🎧 〈你遺忘的片段〉 這首歌不是什麼高深難懂的詩，它更像是一種氛圍。 像是在翻找記憶的抽屜，突然看見一張沒寫完的心情便條。 旋律輕柔、像電影配樂一樣迷幻，而歌詞像回憶的快照——有點奇怪、有點夢幻，也有點讓人心碎。 它適合深夜聽、雨天聽、在思緒太多的時候聽。 你不用解釋，只要靜靜感受，它會唱出你沒說出口的心情。
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🎧 “Echoes You Forgot” This isn’t some deep, complicated poem you have to decode. It’s a vibe. A soft, cinematic song that feels like flipping through memories you didn’t know were still there. Think late-night walks, quiet heartbreaks, and moments that slipped through the cracks. The lyrics are more like snapshots than sentences—strange, dreamy, and a little haunting. Play it when you want something that feels personal, even if you can’t explain why.
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“你遺忘的片段 ”
我們在分岔的句點上握手
像植物學與誤解的一次熱戀
你用紙飛機折出吻別的形狀
風，一字不語的轉身離席
巴哈在隔壁練習沉默的節奏
一張舊車票掉在還沒開始的清晨
你問，什麼是昨日的正確位置
我說，是夢的副本，只有一份
你遺落在我耳裡的回音
像一段忘記時間的留言
那些無法命名的告別
都以詩的方式被偷走
影像在第五次眨眼時變質
我拿著你沒說出口的語言去兌換寂靜
書頁掉在地上，剛好翻到那句
「愛情只是對失落的延長閱讀」
你遺落在我耳裡的回音
像一段忘記時間的留言
那些無法命名的告別
都以詩的方式被偷走
如果語言是一種建築
我想在你遺忘的地方開一扇門
讓記憶的風進來，帶走我沒說完的片段
讓過去成為現在的倒影
你輕輕的說，再見不是結束
然後把一場夏季雷雨塞進我口袋裡
我們各自走入不同的主詞
夢，就這樣停止了發生
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“Echoes You Forgot”
We shook hands at the intersection of punctuation Like botany falling in love with misunderstanding You folded a paper plane into the shape of goodbye The wind turned away, silent as a page
Bach rehearses the rhythm of silence next door A faded train ticket drops into an unfinished morning You asked, “Where’s the right place for yesterday?” I said, “It’s a dream duplicate—one copy only”
The echo you left in my ear Feels like a message that forgot its timestamp Every unnamed farewell Was stolen in the form of a poem
The image distorted on its fifth blink I traded your unspoken words for stillness A page fell open, landing on the line: “Love is just extended reading of something lost”
The echo you left in my ear Feels like a message that forgot its timestamp Every unnamed farewell Was stolen in the form of a poem
If language were architecture I’d open a door where you forgot to stay Let the memory wind blow in And take what I never finished saying Let the past become the reflection of now
You softly said, “Goodbye doesn’t mean it’s over” Then tucked a summer thunderstorm into my pocket We each walked into our own subject And the dream stopped happening