What now remains of you
In a photo that caught that moment
Is exactly what keeps the lips shut
In that rain scenery.
Everything tells me that you've already left
Even though the casual feeling of this trip shines bright.
You, wherever you go, in each trip,
You get off at the wrong stop.
Years later, under the awning,
I found you when you came to escape from the rain.
Your grey eyes resemble the rain,
But as always, you won't say anything.
It's only me that asks hopelessly
Where you live, where you sleep and how your life is.
And you, that knows just as much as the storm knows,
(You) have nothing to say to me.