Romaji

"Tatakatte ayamatte kuttsuite"
Heifuku suburi umaku naru

Katamatte katayotte zuriochite
Haibokukan uri ni suru"

Arifureteru kotoba no naka kara
Jibun ni chikai hitokoto
Mitsuketa kore da mou akita
Sute mata sagasu

Shitsuyou ni haritsuita mozaiku mo itsuka wa
Boroboro to kuzuresari arawa ni naru kono yo no sujou
Mou unzari demo atashi mo sono hitori

Nitsumatte nageyatte hirameite
Geijutsuka mo konna mono?
Kogarete tsuyogatte oitsumete
"Namida dechau" nante uso

Akujunkan karappo no karada ni
Irotoridori no bitamin
Oginau dame da mou kikanai oku no te mo nai

Kotsukotsu to tsumiageta ibitsu na rengatachi
Boroboro to kuzuresari arawa ni naru atashi no sugao
Nakeru wake nai
Aru beki mono, nain da mono

"Ai nante irimasen. Motometara nigeru wa."
Itta ato hansei mo ichiou wa shite miru kedo nee,
Atashi no sei? "ii ya sore wa chigau" demo
Iji ni nari haguretara shosen wa minna, tanin
Netsuzou no kurikaeshi kono bunseki ryoku mo yakimashi?
Waraeru kedo sakebitai no amaetai no

English

“Fighting, apologising, clinging”
I practice prostrating myself before you, and get better at it

“Getting closer, getting closer, then sliding apart
Selling those feelings of defeat”

Among those ordinary words
Is a promise to myself
I’ve found it, I’m tired of it
I throw it away and search again

Even the mosaic I spent so much time making
Will someday crumble and the origin of the world will become clear
Tired of it as I am, I too am one of them

Reaching a conclusion, giving up, a thought occurs
Are artists like this too?
Longing, pretending to be strong, hunting it down
To say “it makes me cry” would be a lie

It’s a vicious cycle
I feed my empty body multi-coloured vitamins
It’s no good supplmenting, it won’t work anymore, I don’t even have a trump card

The distorted bricks that I build up steadily
Crumble, and my true face becomes clear
It doesn’t make me cry
There’s nothing that we must have

“I don’t need love. If I long for it, I run away”
Once I’ve said it, I try to reflect on it
But is it my fault? If even “It’s OK, it’s not” becomes stubbornness
And we end up apart, in the end we’re all different people
Continuing to make things up, do I overanalyse things?
It’s funny, but I want to scream, I want to beg