Please, the usual morning, hear my plea:
Give me a future that’s just too good
Without realizing my wish distortedly comes true
We’ve watched each other vaguely
Turning pale, I’m covered with a scarlet cloak
I ask Buddha who has an apathetic face
“Where are you going?”
Ahead of back alleys
There is a calm avenue
I can’t smile
I can’t get angry
I can’t be sad
I am an unripe fruit because I can’t grow up anymore
I won’t cry
I won’t suffer
I won’t get hurt
I won’t be colored anymore, so I…
I’m praying with broken hands while I can’t grasp the situation
I wish to embrace that cold cloak and return to the entrance
It’s a dramatic end
Before you take it all in, the scene will move one after another
This is a story that can happen to anyone
It could be your turn next