Like overripe fruit.
Like a basement you've crawled into too deeply.
It seems I can't turn back.
What kind of taste is this?
The sequence of events is too tangled.
I don't know where to begin.
I want you to understand me.
What kind of taste is this?
Pitch-black darkness is scary.
I can't take another step.
My palms pressed into the ground as I sat.
Somehow it's cold.
Numbness like a ginger
Numbness like a ginger
It's not the pain.
It's just that my throat is dry.
Even if there are dreams that can't come true,
Even if there's a night that never ends.
Someday, somewhere.
Let's compare the answers.
There is life.
Even something as small as that.
Because it will become a keepsake.
[Full Version Continues]
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The worst mood ever.
What is this?
No matter what, I'm not at fault.
I feel like saying something childish, you know.
What kind of taste is this?
The power to decide is in someone else's hands.
I'm being made to fit someone else's schedule.
It's a ridiculously well-made little box garden.
It's ridiculous, isn't it?
So I don't care anymore.
See you later.
It might stay as a scar.
It might become a treasure.
Someday, somewhere, I'll look back from time to time.
Numbness like a ginger
Numbness like a ginger
It's not the pain.
It's just that my throat is dry.
Even if there are dreams that won't come true.
Even if there is a night that never ends.
Someday, somewhere, let's check the answers.
There is life.
Even something so small will become a keepsake.
Numbness like a ginger
Numbness like a ginger
The end point isn't here.
See you later.