Описание
| Japan | English |
|---|---|
| nigiyaka na hitogomi ni tokeru tsubuyaki ga
ashimoto ni chirabatta omoide nijimaseru mayoi aruku machi no kagayaki wa Glaring One Way kogoesou na boku o terasu tsumetai toki ga yume o furaseru kono te no naka o surinukete negai kazoe mezameta toki ni yureru maboroshi ni kimi ga utsuru boku o michibiku kasuka na SHIRUETTO nagasareru fuan dake o tsugeru yasashisa mo eien ni mitasareta ashita mo hoshikunai kimi ni todokeru hazu no kotoba wa It's Talk To Myself kage mo naku hibi ni ochiru furueru yubi de yume o kasaneru iki mo dekizu ni kuzureteku tashika na koto futashika sugite nani o shinjireba kimi ni aeru shiroku kieteku ano hi no SHIRUETTO awaku somaru kisetsu o miageru Life Winter Dream tachidomaru boku o sarau kaze ni kesareru torinokosareru mune ni kajikamu akogare mo tsumetai toki* ga yume ni tadayou sono te no naka ni uketomete negai kazoe mezameta toki ni yureru maboroshi ni kimi ga utsuru boku o michibiku kasuka na SHIRUETTO | The whisper that dissolves into the bustling crowd
makes the memories scattered underfoot blur together. The blazing of the street where I walk about lost (glaring one way) illuminates me as coldly as though it freezes. The cold times make dreams fall like rain and slip through my hands. When I woke up from the countless wishes, you are reflected in a shimmering illusion -- the silhouette whose faint smile leads me along. Even if the gentleness that tells about only what makes anxiety flow had fulfilled eternity, I still don't want tomorrow. The words that I have to give to you are (it's talk to myself) falling into an everyday routine, even without shadows. With a trembling finger, I gather up the dreams; without even breathing on them, they're crumbling. Even the certain things are too unreliable; if I believe in something, can I be with you again? It's whitely vanishing, the silhouette of that day. Looking up at that palely-dyed season (Life Winter Dream) I, who stopped to stand still, am swept away. The wind blows it out, makes it be left behind; even the yearning is growing numb from the cold in my heart. The cold times drift about in dreams, but are caught and held in your hands. When I woke up from the countless wishes, you are reflected in a shimmering illusion -- the silhouette whose faint smile leads me along. |