Carried by the wind to the end of the world, the clouds beyond the hilly road float by
A blurred fever from the familiarity of being alone, stray memories in empty hands
A daydream, shaking in the haze - your fragrance hangs in the air
I’ll know the answer if I turn back, but I can’t go back to yesterday
Maturation is frightening, even though we tell sad lies about it,
It will become the same color as the, hey, buzzing evening
Things in the distance are beautiful
Things in the distance are beautiful
It would be nice if I could paint that lost scenery, because it’s surreptitiously slipping away
When the seasons pass, I quietly cry. The next page has yet to be turned
A silhouette tired of waiting is overlapping my heart
And changing, little-by-little, to something without even a name
I’m perplexed by a fork in the road, even though I walk in circles
As the needle on the clock goes round and round, hey, where are you leading me?
Everyone dies, but I wish
I had made plans with you before then
A daydream, shaking in the haze – your fragrance hangs in the air
I’ll know the answer if I turn back, but I can’t go back to yesterday
Maturation is frightening, even though we tell sad lies about it,
It will become the same color as the, hey, buzzing evening
Things in the distance are beautiful
Things in the distance are beautiful
—
“Slope of time”
Translated by bloom
blakekathryn
gummygunk
gamechangershow
prguitarman
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
