I had quietly realized.
As if it were my own will, but truly it's ready-made.
With no idea where to go, the march continues.
Walking on top of a paved unconscious.
The sixth sense is closed.
Everyone wants to lie.
A crossroads of misunderstandings.
Since when did it become this way?
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Our rusted selves overlap.
Beyond the tangled threads, what lies ahead?
What exactly is there? Hey.
Shaking the dirty air.
We began to breathe, unaware of the rules.
Keep pulling the trigger.
Two fireworks overlap.
The thread that connects our bursting selves.
Where exactly is it? Hey.
Shaking the dirty air.
We began to breathe, unaware of the rules.
Keep pulling the trigger.
Believing in the day of salvation.