The windowless factory on the opposite side
endlessly produces low and deep noises regardless of the season.
I used to think that those noises would never disappear
no matter where in this world I might go.
Yes, that's what I used to believe.
My baby, in a night without you, I'd sit in the sofa that you used to sit.
Baby, in a room without you, somehow I'd always become solemn and stern.
As the clouds try to snatch even the moonlight away from me,
the nearly-dying lights of the vending machines
dimly scorch onto my eyelids,
almost as though they were fireflies...
When I try to reminisce, you are already no longer there.
My baby, the fact that the night has arrived again into my room today,
baby, it must mean a different night of the same color has also reached you.
Just when did the 5th streetlight from my window go off?
Will I ever be able to offer at least a light to your sorrow...?
My baby. I suddenly turned around because I thought I felt your presence.
Baby, the cornflake and soup that you used to like are now spilled.
My baby, in a night without you, I'd sit in the sofa that you used to sit.
Baby, you started it, didn't you? The videotape of a drama has started to run.