From where does the morning come? The quiet sky, the pinky promise I pretended not to see, that fingertip?
If it's the moon that was laughed at, it's going away in the direction of yesterday.
A liar, a coward - collect all that and I'm the result; if I was blooming, it must have been within a dream.
I hid it in the moonlight, but you know, the truth is that I was crying. My tears won't flow anymore - has the well run dry?
If everything could be forgiven, maybe they'd flow again, but there are so many things I want to protect.
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How long have you been able to hear my voice? Was it really shaking that much? That's so weird.
All I was doing was singing, "I am here," in the direction of tomorrow.
Memories, a disordered room - if I don't even have a place to stand, I'll leave everything behind, bringing just my body.
I wrenched open the dark door and set out on an ending journey.
Even if I get lost on a detour, goodbye, this place is fine.
If I acknowledge everything, I might be able to find it, but there are so many things I can't protect.
Empty as I had become, even though it was so precious to me,
It all crumbles down with a single touch of a fingertip.
Alternatively, I'd obtain it and clutch it so hard it would break,
Or I'd plug my ears with a love song, then get scared and let go - and it repeats.
I hid it in the moonlight, but you know, the truth is that I was blooming. Please don't tread on it at the corner and let it wither away.
To let go of everything and be able to protect the one thing that remains - thus I pray to the dawn.