證明

《證明》是一首關於舞台背後、也是關於人生終章的作品。
當聚光燈落下、妝容卸去，掌聲與目光逐漸遠離，人終將獨自面對鏡中的自己。這首歌不歌頌榮耀，而是誠實書寫表演者在光與暗之間的孤獨、疲憊與自問。

人生如同一場無法排練的戲。
我們或許會忘記最初的方向，卻始終記得每一次掙扎與撐過的瞬間。無論演出時誰在身旁，最後唱完那一場的，始終只有自己。

副歌反覆叩問：「是否能留下些什麼？」
不是為了被記住多久，而是希望在離開之前，曾真實地觸動過某個人——哪怕只換得一次真心的淚流，作為存在過的證明。

《證明》寫給所有曾站上舞台、也曾在人生後台整理行囊的人。
即使明天不得不走，至少此刻，可以坦然地說：我曾存在過。“Proof” is a song about what remains after the spotlight fades.
When the lights fall and the makeup is removed, applause becomes distant, and one is left alone with their reflection. This song does not celebrate glory—it speaks honestly of the quiet exhaustion, solitude, and self-questioning that exist between the stage and real life.

Life is an unrepeatable performance.
We may forget where we began, yet remember every moment we struggled to endure. No matter who stands beside us during the show, in the end, it is always ourselves who must sing the final act.

The chorus asks a simple but weighty question: Did I leave anything behind?
Not to be remembered forever, but to know that before leaving, we truly moved someone—even if only enough to draw a single, sincere tear. That, in itself, would be proof of having existed.

“Proof” is written for those who have stood under the lights, and later packed their bags in the quiet backstage of life.
Even if tomorrow demands departure, this moment allows one truth to remain: I was here.

聚光燈落在身上
眼中反映出藍色的光
看不清誰在鼓掌
分不清是否真心欣賞
人生是無法排練的戲一場
忘了初衷卻記得每次掙扎
不管演出時誰在誰身旁
終究還是自己
唱完最後一場
是否能留下些什麼
是否來得及讓某人感動
如果明天之後不得不走
要怎麼證明　我曾存在過
能不能換你　一次真心的淚流
卸下妝容的臉龐
鏡中浮現疲憊的模樣
後台只剩下行囊
安靜的躺在角落流浪
人生是無法排練的戲一場
忘了初衷卻記得 每次掙扎
不管演出時誰在誰身旁
終究還是自己 唱完最後一場
是否能留下些什麼
是否來得及讓某個人感動
如果明天之後不得不走
要怎麼證明我曾存在過
能不能換你一次真心的淚流
是否能留下些什麼
是否來得及讓某個人感動
如果明天之後不得不走
要怎麼證明我曾存在過
能不能換你一次真心的淚流