You know, there is always a little something to it.

There's always a little something to life,
sadness and perks almost alike.
One that makes you heave and sigh,
the other makes you jump with joy.

That little something is elusive and fine,
sometimes yours and sometimes mine.
Sometimes subtle and sometimes concise,
sometimes so intangible but it makes one cry.

This feels so foreign now in my mind,
this little something that I can't find.
Good that it's lost in the present of times,
for being myself is not a crime.

You know, there's always a little something to life.