Oh, God… I’m filled with love,
For this foolish, twisted world.

Good morning myself, all alone –
Open your eyes, and sleep not.

In the morning, a volunteer soldier turns his back on a sleeping city,
And sings a song…
Hiding all the blood, sweat, and semen,
Beneath a new pair of sheets.

The pianist was moved to tears;
You’re the only one alive,
Who can design each breath I take.

Becoming stronger feels so shameful,
And that’s the truth –
Everyone, prepare to fire:
Let loose a volley!

Papa and mama left their seats –
In guilt… in anger… in disgrace…
Their car raises speed until it’s engulfed in flames!

Philosophy is a death sentence by firing squad;
Stop it already with the crappy metaphors!
We keep trying to steal this one, single ball from one another,
But be careful!
It’s actually been switched out for a time bomb!
Don’t lend your ear to the voices telling you to keep on winning,
They’re all critics built of paper money.
After all, this tunnel we made our way out of,
Has never been anything more than the mouth of a gun.

Becoming stronger feels so shameful,
And that’s the truth –
Everyone, prepare to fire:
Let loose a volley!

Oh, God… I’m filled with resentment,
And that’s the truth…
… for this miraculous machine.

I can’t be someone’s child,
Any longer… any longer…

神様　僕は愛しているよ
愚かで淫らなこの世界を

おはよう　もうひとりの僕
もう目を開けて眠らないで

朝の志願兵　まだ眠る街を背に
歌う
血とか汗とか精液を
新しいシーツに隠して

ピアニスト泣き出した
君だけなのさ
僕の呼吸をデザインできるのは

強くなることは　とても恥ずかしい
本当はね
皆の衆、射撃用意だ
撃ち放せ！

パパとママ席を立つ
後ろめたさで　怒りで　屈辱で
車はスピード上げて炎に包まれる

哲学は銃殺刑だ
もう　ちゃちなメタファー捏ち上げるな
奪い合うひとつのボール
気をつけろ　それは
すり替えられた時限爆弾
勝ち続けろって声に耳を貸すな
紙幣の積み木　批評家たち
僕らが抜けたトンネルはいつだって
ただの銃口だから

強くなることは　とても恥ずかしい
本当はね
皆の衆、射撃用意だ
撃ち放せ！

神様　僕は恨んでいるよ
本当はね
不思議なこの機械を

誰の子でも
いられない　いられない