Alas, I couldn’t be optimistic again
So I got dejected with no aim
My lips curve upwards before I know it
And even this fact gets on my nerves
Even if I gazed at
Cheap love as a bystander
Similar tears would overflow
“Therefore, can you stop messing around?”
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
This isn’t your fault
So please don’t worry about me
Nonetheless
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
This isn’t your fault
But don’t forsake me
Alas, just like a desolate amusement park
I’m told that I can’t go back, and I suffer from it
If I admitted my life is miserable
You know, I would surely get staggered
Even though we censured love together as accomplices
Only you are somehow blameless in the end
“Are you toying with me?”
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
Even though I conceal it without exposing it
The languor is oozing out
Nonetheless
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
Am I the bad one?
I don’t know if I am
Unprepared to meet my end in a great tragedy
I devote myself solely to repeating “it”
Even if you ask me if I have a purpose for that, I can’t answer
I myself have no idea how I should affirm
This behaviour devoid of utility even subjectively
Nor can I deny it
“Then what should I do?”—
Thinking like that, needless to say, is nonsense
A senseless waste of time for a senseless act
That is what has turned out to be evident as a result
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
This isn’t your fault
So please don’t worry about me
Nonetheless
I added colour onto my pallid wrists
This isn’t your fault
But please don’t forget me
For good