About

You're dating him. The folklore found at midnight supposedly gave birth to mermaids long ago. Self-righteous junkies and monkeys crawling toward the paparazzi. It was likely woven for those lowlifes to indulge in their own pleasure. Who was it, who was it again? It seems you've grown a bit used to being praised. They say as long as you claim it first, everything is an original, isn't it? Splendid. If you hate the monk, you hate his robes too. A pioneer-wannabe's lantern. Q.E.D. Let's get light off... no, let's keep it on. Let's make it the right answer, as is often the case. Let's do it forever, it's already mine. Bored, bored, scattering salsa, parched. Leave me behind, leave me behind. Don't force your contradictory images on me. Swarming like that, making such a mess. Drowning in a stagnant happiness. Breathe, ah, breathe without me. Selling yourself out again with a false image. I've had enough, don't love me. I want to escape this life that feels like a cult. Ideology is a disease that's half-and-half with arrogance. Diluted with sewage, then soaked thoroughly in lukewarm water. Sugar dissolved into a brain. Flaws, microtransactions, a festival full of bans. To my eyes, it just looks like pollution having a tea party. You've got the vigilance of a pigeon in a park. The value of "life" decided by some nobody you don't even know. Well, it's all just a matter of discretion. Sell it off, faster and faster. Even though they told you "no," you'll touch that heated iron plate again, won't you? An excuse for when you can't wake up. "The blankets are playing with me," words, words. The more you vomit them out, the more the pale truth becomes laid bare. Grow old, grow old. Carry the profits over to the next life. Die only after you've doubted everything. If you're being watched, you'll work sincerely, won't you? Revere me, proclaim it. Shining hideously like an amusement park. You're senile, aren't you? There's no love here. "Can't you live without parasitizing faith?" Hey, who were you again? You seem to have grown a bit used to being belittled. They say as long as you claim it later, everything is a forgery, isn't it? No problem. If you worship the monk, even his robes are beautiful. The crime of a pioneer-wannabe. "Come here, come here, come here." "Come here, come here, come here." "Come here, come here, come here." "Come here, come here, come here." Leave it behind, leave it behind. Settling into a sanctuary with sudden unity. Swarming like that, making such a mess. Drowning in a thorough happiness. Survive, ah, survive without me. I want to die forever, so I can't die, can I? Expose your sorrow, let your love rot. Signal the new adults.