Similar to the gathering small flying insects that gather around a dim light in the back alley, we, struggling, are crying and crying together. We are reviving the thoughts we've tucked away.
"What should I do?" I do not know. I am fearful of the meaning of "infinity". My two legs, having grown impatient of waiting, are urging me to stand up.
That "everything is fate" is only the God's graffiti; I'll roll it into a ball and throw it away. Holding to my heart the single clear way to do things, I fix my gaze on the daybreak
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[Full Version Continues:]
Iridescent talks about the future are merely empty theories and lovely simulations. Tie your sneakers' shoelaces, and, like the plan says, let's first lift our heads.
There are countless footsteps on the asphalt surface, and each one of them has its own meaning. Searching for my reason of being here, I whistle and walk on.
If I had met the God peeping from outside my small garden, I'd want to at least try to give him a slap across his face.
I awake from my dream, so that the nameless flowers may be reborn. We are already familiar with the majestic look of their growth.
I believe that the riddle of our being born will be solved when everything comes to an end. There's only one sure way to do it: we must deceive God, and live through the present.
Similar to the gathering small flying insects that gather around a dim light in the back alley, we, struggling, are crying and crying together. We are reviving the thoughts we've tucked away.
"What should I do?" I do not know. I am fearful of the meaning of "infinity". My two legs, having grown impatient of waiting, are urging me to stand up.
That "everything is fate" is only the God's graffiti; I'll roll it into a ball and throw it away. Holding to my heart the single clear way to do things, I fix my gaze on the daybreak
[Full Version Continues:]
Iridescent talks about the future are merely empty theories and lovely simulations. Tie your sneakers' shoelaces, and, like the plan says, let's first lift our heads.
There are countless footsteps on the asphalt surface, and each one of them has its own meaning. Searching for my reason of being here, I whistle and walk on.
If I had met the God peeping from outside my small garden, I'd want to at least try to give him a slap across his face.
I awake from my dream, so that the nameless flowers may be reborn. We are already familiar with the majestic look of their growth.
I believe that the riddle of our being born will be solved when everything comes to an end. There's only one sure way to do it: we must deceive God, and live through the present.