A life lived small and wretchedly
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It will die and knock on the door, I suppose
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The little master cannot bear to watch
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'That's an unpleasant tale'
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The throat and torso, expanding greatly
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As if to melt a dead heart
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Hey, you must have prayed too, right?
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I adore that kind of tragic spirit
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The endpoint of love and ego
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You can be reborn soon as well
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Becoming like a monster, isn't that wonderful?
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'Ah, God, why?' you say
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'I don't want this anymore,' you cried
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Accept this, this is fate
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Let us devote ourselves to the master after the next
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Myth, life, and human fate as well
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To fall into love carelessly, too
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The snake quietly starts to laugh
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Ah, what's this, what's this
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I can't stand it anymore
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Licking at the dulled heart
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Clinging to a tiny life
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Ah, you must have taken up residence in me, right?
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The fate of fusing our eyes
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You are the 'queen' of this tragedy
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The hands-clasping festival of love and ego
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Even the trembling days begin to crumble
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We keep pace toward the 'First Tragedy'
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Even if you lament 'Give it back'
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Even if you cry 'I don't want this anymore'
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What would you know? That is fate
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A terribly brittle, shabby tale (a crack) is probably its true name
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Resist it again and again
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It begins to flow backward toward the same tale
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Rashly and pathetically
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Crying, sobbing, wailing, and weaving
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Submit to the sin of having asked for too much
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Hollow miracles burst and crumble
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'Well, I guess it's fine now'
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Even the ending itself fades away immediately
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Let's mock the one after the next after next
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