Things are just fine—they’re still at a livable temperature.
Let’s gather around an unstable, pale blue breakfast.
Let’s form a stiff and rigid family.
Let’s join our blood and multiply.
Once a year, let’s swap all of our cells.
If we go on living like we’re in a dream,
We can remain lost in this wavering, flavorless sweetness.
I’ve been putting on a show, for a very long time.
When I die, I’ll be going to Hell,
So stay by my side until death do us part.
Our public and private feelings are being arranged in neat lines.
So spit out… the unstable
And cry…
If we go on living like we’re in a dream,
We can drown in this wavering, flavorless sweetness.
There’s no limit to where we can go, lost between breaths:
18 19 18
If we go on living like we’re in a dream,
Things will be just fine—if this is as bad as it gets.
I’ve been putting on a show,
But a cold wind finally reached my tear ducts.