MUXIBOSH - Midnight Coffe Original Mix

Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight is coming.
Yeah.
Sitting by the window while the espresso starts to brew.
Looking at the neon signs—red and faded blue.
The city clock is ticking, but I am wide awake.
Thinking about the choices and the steps I had to take.
Every steam rises slowly in the air.
Casting away the shadows of the stress I had to bear.
One sip, one warmth—letting all the static fade.
Finding my protection in the corner that I made.
I was rushing through the mornings, trying to win a prize.
Missing out the beauty of the fading disguise.
Maybe every bit of taste was meant to make me wise,
Just to help me see the world without the disguise.
And until the barista throws the lights down for the night,
I will watch the raindrops falling in the streetlamp light.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Jazz is playing softly from the speaker on the wall.
With the pen and paper, I don’t feel so small.
Outside, people run just to catch the final bus.
But inside this circle, there is no more heavy rush.
The ceramic cup holds all the comfort that I need.
Rewriting all the chapters of the life I want to lead.
One rhyme, one page—letting all the vision grow.
Moving with the rhythm that is beautiful and slow.
Now the highway traffic thins out on the street,
Leaving just the echo of the lonely dynamic beat.
Maybe every sleepless night was part of the design,
To give me all the quiet hours to make the music mine.
And until the sunrise paints the coffee shop,
This will be the warmest story that was ever told.
Oh, midnight.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Yeah.
Sitting by the window while the espresso starts to brew.
Looking at the neon signs—red and faded blue.
The city clock is ticking too, but I am wide awake.
Thinking about the choices and the steps I had to take.
Every steam rises slowly in the air.
Casting away the shadows of the stress I had to bear.
One sip, one warm—letting all the static fade.
Finding my protection in the corner that I made.
I was rushing through the mornings, trying to win a prize.
Missing out the beauty of the fading disguise.
Maybe every bit of taste was meant to make me wise,
Just to help me see the world without the disguise.
And until the barista throws the lights down for the night,
I will watch the raindrops falling in the streetlamp light.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Jazz is playing softly from the speaker on the wall.
With the pen and paper, I don’t feel so small.
Outside, people run just to catch the final bus.
But inside this circle, there is no more heavy rush.
The ceramic cup holds all the comfort that I need.
Rewriting all the chapters of the life I want to lead.
One rhyme, one page—letting all the vision grow.
Moving with the rhythm that is beautiful and slow.
Now the highway traffic thins out on the street,
Leaving just the echo of the lonely dynamic beat.
Maybe every sleepless night was part of the design,
To give me all the quiet hours to make the music mine.
And until the sunrise paints the coffee shop,
This will be the warmest story that was ever told.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.
Midnight coffee.
Midnight. Midnight coffee.