The blue I wrote in the open notebook
Searched for your back when the end chime rang
Inept and vague, a tone that can't be written on sheet music
Locked away in my heart
The traced memories with touched fingers
I wonder which words can turn into a song?
Just within the dream, still bound
Was I alone when I was born?
Will I tend to forget?
Something is missing in the familiar scenery
In the night sky I looked up to, only an unreliable moonlight
On the verge of tears, I threw away the half-written diary
Can I speak about tomorrow?
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Gently, a faint butterfly settled on my finger
Where will it fly to in this deep night?
Still lit in this profound darkness
I was alone when I was born, and everyone
Is the same, aren't they?
The memories adorned with your sound
I wonder which words can turn into a song?
Will the gentleness traced by these fingers
Someday change into someone's love?
Just within the dream, still bound
Was I alone when I was born?
It seems I tend to forget
We're all the same, aren't we?
We're all the same, aren't we?