The TV displays the burnt remains of a city,
As an enormous grief envelopes the world.
The news can’t stick to its story;
What’s the real reason?
It’s all because of us, who make trends out of sorrow.
Bullets fly about, but there’s no reality felt;
Our own blood won’t ever spill…
Screams whose true forms remain unseen.
On nights a sorrowful rain soaks through,
Without a single tear shed,
I’ll forget my scars and smile again today.
We become dust, dance in the wind, and become a thing of the past…
But if possible, I’d love to share even our pain and happiness,
No matter how far apart we are.
But just as I thought, when tomorrow comes,
We go back to our everyday lives,
Chatting about disasters and thrills –
How pathetic it is!
That sorrowful rain is still unending;
From under my umbrella, I can’t feel the cold,
So I’m still able to smile today.
Bullets fly about, but there’s no reality felt;
Our own blood won’t ever spill…
Screams whose true forms remain unseen.
On nights a sorrowful rain soaks through,
Without a single tear shed,
Our days will be washed away, completely forgotten.