Hey boy, what’s up?
This is a battlefield, you know
A raging rally of hatred, the process of growing in a back-chasing manner
With a sword that knows no restraint, still filled with killing intent
A sweating body, karma or blame, how is it?
Constantly, reality is a discordant melody
A speechmaker with a cold, stainless steel heart
How many times does the flickering happen, the tempest triumphs again
The arch of good and evil, survivors no longer respond
Blooming like a flower, my red
Even the things I want to protect
Once they leave my hands
They become things I want to destroy
Things that cannot be broken
That roar, that madness
Blooms a dahlia of flowers
Every time it’s brandished, a distorted ruler
Reflecting contrasting justice
Guerilla of betrayal
The scattered feathers
Like the ground kicked by a flying bird
You have them too, right?
Things you don’t want to see hurt
That is the starting point of justice and evil
Originally of the same color, assimilating
The blade without ill intentions
Brushed against someone’s face
So, to a neutral position
Actually, even as a bystander, we are accomplices
To hide this guilt
Once again, I dirty these hands
Blooming like a flower, my red
You and I are the same
Hurting each other, confirming
Things I want to protect
Only those that will break
That roar, that madness
Blooms a dahlia of flowers
Every time it’s brandished, a distorted ruler
Reflecting contrasting justice
Guerilla of betrayal
The scattered feathers
Like the ground kicked by a flying bird
You have them too, right?
Things you don’t want to see hurt
Oh, it’s so unbearable, my head hurts
Through this commotion, I push through and am once again invited into the next maze
Between madness and joy, a heart sways, filled with pleasure
There is none of that, I understand well
But, once again, the devil whispered
This game, an endless joint front
To gain something, at the cost of something
Even excuses and worldly lies are just obstacles, swept away
Even a tailwind turns into a headwind when you look back
Thousands of years, even as time passes, the eternal path remains unchanged
That roar, this madness
Humming an aria
Every time I look back, my chest hurts
Locking in an instinctive determination
That roar, that madness
Blooms a dahlia of flowers
Every time it’s brandished, a distorted ruler
Reflecting contrasting justice
Guerilla of betrayal
The scattered feathers
Like the ground kicked by a flying bird
You have them too, right?
Things you don’t want to see hurt