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The sadness on the face will probably be gone tomorrow,

When did my eyes become dead?



What is waiting for me tomorrow as I sing and live without meaning?



Alone in my room as my heartbeat screams,

Don't kid yourself and don't fool yourself



The unstoppable rain, The unstoppable sound, The unstoppable scar.



The unstoppable love, The unstoppable song...

I can't stop it anymore!

I can't handle it anymore!



Kill the voice Close your eyes Drown in the darkness Roam around,

I won't depend on anyone anymore

Kill the voice Close your eyes Drown in the darkness Roam around.



I keep inside me your keen voice...

All in darkness.



Its such an irony this sunny bright weather

-Good Morning-

The pressed flower recalls memories in the evening sky,

To that time, when I would count on my fingers, the days until we met.



In the good ol' days of clear blue skies the broken dream and To my sorrow, the endless evidence of my crime.



One night voiceless is Spring.



Drowining in the evening, when it was still cold

I saw the early blossoming cherry blossoms

And there she stood underneath them, but that's an old story.



In those days she was lovely and so very beautiful.



And yet something about her face seemed sad,

You see, she was hiding the tears of the dusk behind that long hair.



This place reflects you and even the many things I'd forgotten,



You, fragile and drained of color, and the monochrome scars.

In the good ol' days of clear blue skies the



broken dream and What's sinful is I caught a glimpse of, The one night Spring in which vice groaned within.



The show booth



I saw you, in the cold daybreak,

Still letting others control you, unable to do anything,

The tears trickling down your face, like flower petals.



The pressed flower recalls the memories in the evening sky.



To that time, when I would count on my fingers, the days until we met.



Under the blossoming cherry blossoms behind the booth illuminated in the dusk,

If only if only for now the scars you hide behind your sleeves would disappear.



In the good ol' days of clear blue skies the broken dream and To my sorrow, the endless evidence of my crime,

One night voiceless is Spring.

The intention is clear, I stare with this left hand, unable to be worded

Every time I bleed, there lies the reason to live And I discover words being so vivid and bright.



Even loved ones scatter like petals from flowers in my hand,

So even if I engraved the meaning that I lived in my hand, it will only be known as flowers of vanity.



the final.



One by one it multiplies why be a sad bait?



Deep within the hell of my heart I cant go back

A self-tortured loser, not being able to see tomorrow.



Suicide is the proof of life.



Even loved ones scatter like petals from flowers in my hand,

So even if I engraved the meaning that I lived in my hand, the petals will just scatter as flowers of vanity.



So I cant live.

Whats lost cant be born again.



A song thats not even seeking the proof of living,

Lets put an end the final.



Let blood flowers of attempted suicide...