Create despite of anything, create with your hands,
Turn the world upside down, knock the sky over.
In every single sketch, in every single draft,
A teacher continues in their student.
For my entire life, I’ve been going down to the bottom,
For my entire life, I’ve been searching for love,
So that I’d love only her.
They said it’s too late to save and treat us.
It doesn’t matter, because our children will be better than us.
Better than us… Better than us…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
We can’t be erased, we live just for spite,
Even though we’re unlucky, we’ll take what’s ours.
This sky is instead of a stage, here, everything is upside down.
And these stars in the darkness are the lantern lit by you.
A thousand of me was there before me and will be after me,
A thousand of me and a thousand of me in thousands of not me.
And we’re broken into pieces again, and we can’t be fixed.
It doesn’t matter, because our children will be better than us.
Better than us… Better than us…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…
When I’ll cease to exist, I will sing with the voices
Of my children, and with the voices of their children.
We are just being swapped,
Such is the law of Samsara, the cycle of people.
O-o-oh, mother…