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