I was born on this star to meet you to protect you.
The prism which begins to turn around at the moment when I woke.


I was born now to love you to embrace you.
There are both the lie and the truth in oneself entirely.


I do not lose in days leaving a heart.
I will regain gentleness and love once again.


In the days that are a marionette, I am at a loss between beginning and infinite narrows.
The power to cut the thread which got twisted up into is still unexploited in your heart.



I live to feel warmth without forgetting tears.
The system which is incised on own far-off memory.


I do not become coward in believing a human being.
I stare straight and will change tomorrow.


A heart wavers in the back contrived dream of the eyes of the mechanism doll.
The courage to throw away a rusted screw begins to already wake for my heart.


In the days that are a marionette, I am at a loss between beginning and infinite narrows.
The power to cut the thread which got twisted up into is still unexploited in your heart.


A heart wavers in the back contrived dream of the eyes of the mechanism doll.
The courage to throw away a rusted screw begins to already wake for my heart.
It passes very much and, "in addition", your face which wagged a hand floats and disappears from the graduation ceremony.


Though the new life got used, some expectation and uneasiness mingle still more.


A classroom and a shoe cupboard, a child already different now whom I am in high spirits, and ran about use it.


Your voice wants to hear it now.
I cannot meet anymore every day though I met unless I meet expressly from now on.


Will you talk on the telephone a little?
"No business" say.


A pager and the email are not enough.
I laugh together once again and will make noise.



What kind of feeling is the life of that place?
It is the days when I do not change with me as ever.


Though environment changed and became some adults, I thought that I was busier, and something changed.


Though there is not it in such a thing withphilia or a lover, what is the ill feeling of this heart?
It does not seem to be some oneself.


Though under lover are common stories anywhere, it is painful a little, and do not be troubled more than a friend when I befall oneself.


Your voice wants to hear it now.
I cannot meet anymore every day though I met unless I meet expressly from now on.


Will you talk on the telephone a little?
"No business" say.


A pager and the email are not enough.
I laugh together once again and will make noise.
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