Lining up one by one the pieces of warmth they had lost, the multicolored pieces of you sketched a smiling face.
Unable to be honest about our future lit up by the light of our love, I put out the light and loved while fumbling in the darkness.
Still not skillful at creating new memories, I powerlessly leave myself to the rapid flow of time.
Where should I go? Ahead of this darkness, how many more times must I say goodbye? Right now in the world visible only to you, what is sparkling?
To you, who had always stayed by my side back then, how many more times must I say goodbye? Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.
Into the tiny space between the choices of whether or not I should turn back, pieces of you fell and pointed up their sharpened corners.
When I walk all alone on this road I've grown accustomed to, the scenery and the wind feel different. The season is beginning to shift.
I forced my sweet dream to take on the shape of love, to the point that it was cracking and breaking.
Where should I go? Ahead of this wind, how many more times must I say goodbye? On my palm, my wishes are slipping through my fingers.
To you, who are still inside my chest even now, how many more times must I say goodbye? Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.
Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.
Lining up one by one the pieces of warmth they had lost, the multicolored pieces of you sketched a smiling face.
Unable to be honest about our future lit up by the light of our love, I put out the light and loved while fumbling in the darkness.
Still not skillful at creating new memories, I powerlessly leave myself to the rapid flow of time.
Where should I go? Ahead of this darkness, how many more times must I say goodbye? Right now in the world visible only to you, what is sparkling?
To you, who had always stayed by my side back then, how many more times must I say goodbye? Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.
Into the tiny space between the choices of whether or not I should turn back, pieces of you fell and pointed up their sharpened corners.
When I walk all alone on this road I've grown accustomed to, the scenery and the wind feel different. The season is beginning to shift.
I forced my sweet dream to take on the shape of love, to the point that it was cracking and breaking.
Where should I go? Ahead of this wind, how many more times must I say goodbye? On my palm, my wishes are slipping through my fingers.
To you, who are still inside my chest even now, how many more times must I say goodbye? Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.
Pieces of you are sparkling in the distance in the depth of my heart.