I was dead and rode the stream named “day by day.”
Confused by the future to be drawn.
Just like a tiny bottle which floated in the sea.
Squeeze my knees and my heart.
Derided by the moon when I look at darkness.
What's your hand for?
Cold wind ripped out my heart.
Reflected in the puddle I saw the face of death.
The lunatic cried to the moon.
Human beings starting to begin the war to live.
And there are people fighting now against hunger and their poverty.
Someone and you.
In desperation live.
I dreamed of a fantasy of not to know the truth and stood.
My hand did point the way for me.
The future is in vain like smoke.
The future is disappears if I catch it.
The future is pure like the water.
The future changes form and escapes.
I'm running after it by feel just like a blind man.
Even if I burst into tears.
I'll still run after it by feel.
Until I grab it.
Just like the tragic last dance.