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At the farthest ends of this world,
The hand of a clock offers itself and begins to spin
The signals etched upon the red metronome,
Crucify the sound of tears endlessly ringing from frozen eyes
NADIA, swaying, severed from truth
This heart, to what is it drawn?
If it's left in someone's memories,
Even if just a fabrication, right now it is just a still unseen destination
Hidden in an unending storm,
The voice of this breaking circle of life and death
The footsteps of echoing decay, simply stand still
Gently glancing at the palm of a trembling hand,
Grasp those feelings as well
NADIA, becoming blurred, betraying truth
That heart, what does it seek? What charms it?
If it's the hopes that everyone looks upon,
It can only be verified that no one knows their whereabouts
Everyone becomes lost and continues to move ahead
Even if I were to come to a stop, feeling it was a mistake,
If I set out desiring an answer, then surely,
It is because I believe in the end I have striven for
NADIA, swaying, severed from truth
This heart, to what is it drawn?
If it's that which is left in your memories,
Try to ascertain the truth right now