You're going away soon,
I knew that from the beginning.
I pretend not to realize,
Saying I have a bad habit of of making myself a way out with a forced laugh.
The sky that was always black,
Is now empty.
The boy who lost his fingers cried,
Unable to grasp ahold of love or dreams.
He was in a back alley so many times,
Hoping for rebirth on the seventh morning.
Hoisting up an answer full of patches.
If being poisoned could relax me,
The I'd throw myself into the nectar of temptation, without hesitation.
Ahh, if I wasn't chosen,
Then it looks like I was just one of your casual toys after all.
Ahh, a piece of the discharging darkness that I created broke off,
It said thankyou.
Going to waste,
Blooming in profusion,
All living creates...
Let it all burn to ashes;
Standards, yes, they're different, so different...
If dropping a drop of water into the ocean is the same as mingling,
Then let it all burn to ashes;
Love return to ashes.
Ahh, impatient with a stopped heart,
A maestro has begun to go mad,
Without keeping a hold on reality.
The patch covered \"goodbye\" that I held up in that back alley