This isn't me, this isn't me, this isn't me,
If I'll be able to forgive "sin" someday.
Before I knew "how to love," I learned "how to fight."
As awkward as I am, what is my weapon?
If we live only to die, why do I wish to become strong?
With "all of my feelings" sealed away in a little box,
So precious, though they were so precious to me,
They were so easily trampled upon and broken.
This isn't me, this isn't me, this isn't me.
I search for an excuse - the probability that I'll get hurt
Is not zero, it's not zero, it's not zero,
If I'll be able to forgive "sin" someday...
If I'll come to believe, someday, that "I can change."
So many things I absolutely have to do, closing in on me one after another;
I'm unable to do anything I actually want to do.
Even so, "I must proceed," I think, just following the unwritten rules.
If I want to follow that path and bind "myself" to "responsibility"...
Suppressing the voice inside that wants to run away
And sealing away the "heart" is the easiest choice to take.
This isn't me, this isn't me, this isn't me.
You say that I must, at any and all times, be an adult?
I don't want to know, I don't want to know - no, the truth is I want to know.
I can't take the helm of my own body.
I can't maintain control of my own heart.
If I could come to know myself just a little better,
I'd like to learn how to use the words, "I love you."
This isn't me, this isn't me, this isn't me.
I search for an excuse - the probability that I'll get hurt
Is not zero, it's not zero, it's not zero,
If, someday, someday, I'll be able to forgive "sin" someday...
If I'll come to believe, someday, that "I can change."