From the very beginning, I never truly had anything.
Only the mirror reveals this to be a conventional TV drama.
Neither the darkness or horizon, nor these plastic feelings either,
Not a soul has understood the evening scene I’ve painted.
I placed under lock and key, all the things I wanted to convey.
And it would seem I wound up locking you in that labyrinth as well.
Although I can’t reach you, I won’t be satisfied.
You’ll understand eventually, so I place all the blame on you.
I wonder if the voices in my head are coming through clearly.
On the path before my eyes, I spy a little lost lamb fallen.
Seems like I misread the map that I made myself again.
If this world should become a place where only common words can be expressed,
Then where can any of these creative impulses resound?
Although I can’t reach you, I won’t be satisfied.
You’ll understand eventually, so I place all the blame on you.
I wonder if the voices in my head are coming through clearly.
So that I may capture the incorruptible you within the viewfinder,
I dedicate to you every shot of the rest of the film that I’d set aside for this purpose.
I feel like I’m about to throw up. Phrases I never wanted to see surround me.
Obliterate the key. You are crazy. Crazy.
Love and all the words I’ve grown used to will one day be the death of you.
This worn-down knife and battered soul cry out.
Before I disappear. Before I disappear.
All the words and sounds pass you by unnoticed.
I wonder if the voices in my head are coming through clearly.