Centipede
The summer sun reflects off the water tower, her smile acting as a symbolOf living skillfully. My veins and arteries poured sweat, haunted by a pathology that looks like brown gunpowderI get the feeling that I'm not myself. That or a delusion. Yellow sand rises up inside 6 billion sighsA centipede with no place of refuge, whose breathing is feebleI crawl through a stream of muddied tears, and where shall I go? Everywhere is no good.I have no place to call my own. God, I unfortunately understood.The empty night sky is so beautiful, and to be buried completely in that black voidIs my prayer-oh, is that it? Could it be that I want to die?
Love pretends to be love, and it shows me a glimpse of it's blade, telling me to swallow it allToday pretends to be today, and it threatens me, telling me it's time to redo everythingDon't advance from here- you'd better not. Who's that pushing me from behind? Look, I'm just one step away.That's right, it's the gallows at the very end where my dreams hang
The public housing in the suburbs is colored by the setting sun. I feel like my heart's being pricked by needlesAnd I'm full of guilt for being aliveThe darkness follows me, the darkness blocks my way in this season of pathological blushing. Libido swells up,My escape from reality with it's reasons- delusions, delusions, delusionsMy self-consciousness was left behind at the railroad crossing just seconds before I'd be split right down the middleThe red lights up, disappears, lights up, disappears, lights up, disappears. Disappear-The woman in a Chinese dress, the Denentoshi train line, my inferiority, my inferiority, the past, the pastMake it all disappear. God, I'll kill you
The past pretends to be the past and starts to strangle my throat, telling me to accept it allThe night pretends to be the night, and it shouts at me that it's all my faultDon't run away from here- you'd better not. Who's that pushing me from behind? Look, I'm just one step away.That's right, it's the gallows at the very end where my dreams hang
I wanted to touch something. I still want to feel connectedI stood on a rooftop, and I remember now that it's too lateI cried in the sunlight filtering through the trees in spring. I can hear my mother's voice.Is it OK for me to be here? Is it OK for me to be alive?
The sky pretends to be the sky, and it looks down upon me, sneering that it knows all about mePeople pretend to be people, and they scowl at me, wanting me to spit it all outDon't advance from here- you'd better not. Who's that pushing me from behind? Look, I'm just one step away.That's right, it's the gallows at the very end where my dreams hang
I wanted to touch something. I still want to feel connectedI stood on a rooftop, and I remember now that it's too lateI cried in the sunlight filtering through the trees in spring. I can hear my mother's voice.Is it OK for me to be here? Is it OK for me to be alive?