In my heart, while its wings flap
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There is a fan spinning
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Over the line-cutting dots
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Of an interrupted conversation
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Hanging upside down in a helmet
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Do your best, running scooter
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Our days are turning back too
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We live like we're in a lame joke
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The disapproval of our souls
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Is like a gleaming, piercing blade
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Our sense of aesthetics
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When we got there and saw
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How empty our feelings were
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Clearly our view caved in under pressure
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Now it's more like a piano string
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The water that you scoop in your hands keeps flowing
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So your way of life becomes transparent
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Hmm, unless you're not having fun
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If you get to these old-school times with little breath
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You'll freeze with the pain of despair
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I'll take off my coat and it becomes your umbrella
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But even if you have 10 billion yen
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I'll never sell my pride
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If it's torn up, I'll chew it again
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By chewing it, the taste comes out
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With the air of a bitter person
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Our sense of aesthetics
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