I will sing for the last time
This red afterimage is the romance of departure
The book that repeatedly records our rebirth has finally come to an end
When I woke up, there was a thin layer of ice
And I was standing barefoot on it, looking for your hand
I was asked to continue sitting on that chair; it was a promise I should go along with
Within the short interval of the romantic moment of your departure
Even if I'm the fountainhead of the linden tree
You don't have to sing for anyone's sake anymore
The flowers I knew so well chose only those beautiful words for me
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A rusty story I could't bring myself to sing so I hid behind my coat
Even so, in exchange, I let myself go many times over
However in life, there is always an "and yet" who follows along
I confess to you in the romantic glow of a sunset
We talked together under the heat of a candle in the middle
This last song is my wish for my burden in that world
We will live with this frustration from now on
On the corner of the book, there is a scribble out of my heart that needs to be done yet I still haven't set my feet at the entrance
I confess in the romantic moment of your departure
Your mission was guided by love
Becoming the shoulders the flying birds used to come down to talk
The two of us will live with fleeting tranquility from now on