Putting the things I feel into the past
Is an action that is never mundane
I see my future flowing in the vast
Much alike the time that faded again
I'm clinging to the time, beyond the window frame
And the square that once where there, of the factory, is not the same
I heard it one day, the roaring ocean,
but what should I say? So far away
There's little time left until you will close
your tired eyes and drift afar
The courage that flows without a trace,
will it ever connect where no one goes?
Our memorization, so irreplaceable,
I'm hoping that the two will merge
Putting the things I feel in what I’ve made
Is an action that is never mundane
I see my future like a serenade
Much alike the dream that someone had named