If you ask me a place where I could return
I would tell you my room with the memories I own
With the windows wide open I stare at the moon
And build my dreams there in every toss and turn

In my room when I was young I could puff endlessly
While I enjoy the night,and the whole scenery
While the puffing occurs I scribble my mute friend
Write my poems crazily from beginning to end

In that room I could see my every misery
And I write every line down in my diary
I write poems I write thoughts that keep coming out
In that room my writing is where it came about

I want my room back by the window open wide
Where I planned how my life would be mystified
Right there in that room-my secret hideaway
My heart yearns until now forever it will stay.