In Darkness ~No Going Back~
Sucking on a candy on school grounds just before war commences.A young boy in his jail cell whistles beneath a moonlit night.Yesterday’s newspaper is lodged in an iron fence.Ordinary agitation and the smiles of mother and father.An underwear thief on the veranda of an apartment.Capitalism, he steals a pair of praiseworthy panties.If you ask me, I just wanted to wrap everything up.I put the banned LP next to the knife in my bookbag.Sorrow is showing the same display of sadness again and again.My sorrow is one where I recite my sadness to myself.Let’s play catch ball if the sun decides to come out tomorrow.I caught the emotionally unstable curveball.Every single day of our lives walks away and leaves all of us behind.As we round third base and head home, we long for the sun to rise.The cowards that we are, we cry as though we’re the victims,Until these tears as numerous as our excuses find their home in the sea.A truck carrying a bomb over a bumpy road in the Middle East.I passed it by with the speed of someone who’s given up on life.For no particular reason at all, I set out on a journey,Sucking on exhaust fumes as a song about Chernobyl plays.Tomorrow, the wind shall blow as it believes it was always meant to.Our freedom to be forced to speak about our inconveniences,If I can’t go back to yesterday, I’ll throw it out with the recyclables,Along with a huge mountain of newspaper classifieds.Every single day of our lives walks away and leaves all of us behind.As we round third base and head home, we long for the sun to rise.The cowards that we are, we cry as though we’re the victims,Until these tears as numerous as our excuses find their home in the sea.Should I march on? Should I turn back?I promised myself I’d never look back again.Should I march on? Should I turn back?If I ever stop, that will surely be the end.Inside a trash can at the park,Was what looked just like empty cans.Look at this, these things of days past.These dreams that never came true as they roll around.Every single day of our lives walks away and leaves all of us behind.As we round third base and head home, we long for the sun to rise.The cowards that we are, we cry as though we’re the victims,Until these songs as numerous as our excuses find their home in the sea.