Accusations that sound good raise their voice
Facing it, suddenly, thoroughly
Non-stop, yet dull
Don’t want to deal with it any longer
Boring fantasy, thrilling routine
Replica or debris, don’t just be whatever you want to be
(Yeah, like the Flatwoods monster)
Ouch! Cool air dives into the lungs
(Yeah, like the Flatwoods monster)
Yet must I keep on living in this way as always?
We simply became desiring everything
Wanted to gather trifling things, only
Got heatedly focused, but remained trivial
It must have dived into the sink
Boring uproar and knowledge learned from others
Bread that tired of, and circus
Every day is virtual as usual
Make a clear and rational dance out of it, with sounds and words rearranged
Cut down the number of your sighs
Smash them into dust, baby
We will always hide those glittering cards
Inside the pocket of our heart
No one should know that, with what thoughts they make such foul accusations?
No miracle will take place, even magic will make no effect
Hey, the stampede doesn’t stop
And the heartbeat hits harder
It’s a headshot, isn’t it?
Get burned and turned to ash
It’s not a joke, and there’s no divine retribution
Bearing this future, I want to be cursed
Yeah, like the Flatwoods monster
Hey, the stampede doesn’t stop
And the heartbeat hits harder
In a sex scene with no affection
The soaring crowds makes a trauma
Laugh at me, again, and say “you died?”
The passing hot wind now drops down its shadow
Like a comical monster
We simply became desiring everything
Wanted to gather trifling things, only
Putting on my clothes and waiting for the dawn, I’ll leave this town
Used to be loving trifling things, only, though