Melancholy scatters in the wind and casts a shadow where it gathers.
Our footsteps incessantly remind us of our impermanence,
and I get so lost when I peer into the depth of your eyes.
We used to have hopes, right? About what lies ahead?
The reason we joke and laugh is that the road we travel is so dark,
and I guess it's our job to turn on the lights.
I'm all too familiar with pretending to say goodbye,
but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
This deep red sadness of ours
gets darker, and darker, and then becomes night.
Even if it's inevitable that tomorrow will come around,
I didn't ever say that I wanted to live for it.
Even though I'm better off quitting, I still keep on having dreams
of the future. Of the future. And it's all your fault.
All the things we need to accomplish are hanging from the crescent moon.
Even wandering the roads at the night, your figure radiates reassurance.
It takes time to trust - especially when it's trusting another person.
But if we're on the same road, there's no reason to stay distant either.
When all's said and done, if I'm going to share something,
then I'll need someone to share it with, and I'll need myself too.
I'm all too familiar with pretending to say goodbye,
but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
This deep red sadness of ours
gets darker, and darker, and then becomes night.
If love was there from the very beginning, we never checked to be sure.
Destiny takes us along to meet the most unexpected people,
and they leave a lasting impression in the depths of our hearts.
If there's hardship, we can bear it. If there's pain, we can share it.
But I couldn't shoulder your burdens all the way up to your fated destination.
Farewells are always hard, no matter how many times I've done them,
so we're only pretending to part ways. This is just a goodbye game.
It's a game where I trick myself by saying ''I'm sure we'll meet again.''
''I'm sure we'll meet again.''
I'm all too familiar with pretending to say goodbye,
but I still broke into tears as I waved farewell.
These deep red lies of ours
they dampen, and dampen, and then morning arrives.
I guess the fact that we've grown apart means that we were united at one point.
If we called it ''giving up'', then I'd feel guilty doing it.
But it's fate. It's fate. That's what you called it.