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A mirage flickering in the distance is, for some reason, nostalgic to me
The day I was born, someone calling – “One, Two, Three!!!!!”
It’s not like I remember though.
Ah, if crimson memories are happiness,
What is a white future?
What is there is simply what is there.
Fear, hope, everything is simply there.
Even if you don’t do anything, as days go by you’ll always end up hurting something, someone.
“One, two, three, four” – I count my sins on my fingers.
There’s another one.
Ah, the road that connects crimson and white
Is long, yes long, but short.
“Until I cross it, just what can I do?”
As long as I keep searching for the answer, everything will be alright.
What is there is simply what is there.
Fear, hope, everything is simply there.
Dreams, vain effort, love, logic, remonstration
Despair, boredom, it’s all just a melody taking us onward.