The God watching above got very angry And sent down a rain of poison

The one who gripped on it

Let’s fold up the paper and go to the moon

They knew your real self is nowhere to be found, But they still tortured me.

(Please correct this mess)

Those charming crocodile tears are a distorted, disguised grave visit to pay respects

I have fickle illusions of the unfairness of existence, and the cross-section view becomes impossible to judge.

I had a bad dream

The sun today is hidden away

In a small bottle, I can't store any more.

So cool~!” They’ll say!!

That girl is fine too, isn’t she?

After all, I’m not a child anymore, But if I knew I would still suffer this much, Then I wish I hadn’t been born in the first place…

Swinging the wooden hammer, I aim at the five-inch-long nail.

It comes. I go mad. It never ends. It never ends.

The forest, the houses, the people...

Ah, what on earth is it? A test subject filled with failures, I've been seeking perfection, though it's impossible.

I no longer can even distinguish

Scarcely drying up while turning into dust, We fly towards the the hill

¹Each chorus lyrics begins with 2 kanji that are homophones with the first word likely for effect and unrelated to meaning

That which you wish would come true, bringing it into reality.

In the blender that’s waiting for breakfast, I was just watching with a finger in my mouth.

Even the cost to live is two million, So come back when you have lots of money!

Reclaimed and stolen space debris, besmeared with all colours of the rainbow.

Too bad, Concept, Accepting my suicidal thoughts!

Turned into shackles on the feet

I can’t even run away on my trembling legs.

I get it now, but the truth is, There's no way to finish what I've started.

The prophecy is crushed under the weight of the past.

Tie up the paper, keep it as your companion

The batteries in my head are round the wrong way.

The rope that cannot be untied from the neck

I feel an arousing pleasure via social media. It's a giant labyrinth of broken gravestones.

A theoretically possible escape from the impossible

The ensconced safe minimalist singing smoothly

Even if your hand is cut off, you can still fold paper

Turned into shackles on the feet

Above the sky, we forgot everything

It looks fun, so I think I’ll try too!

For me to be seeing these things, Am I sane? Have I gone mad? Did my eyes deceive me?

The brawl of turbulent times is a lion trumpet, housebound

My twisted heart has finally understood.

And unable to be forgotten---what that is Is a flower pot of trauma.

And a heart lit up by a lamp

What on earth is it?

Proclaiming one’s justice, I, Waraninja, am here to help!

I leaked out from the cracked gap.

A Phillips head screwdriver fits into my negative thoughts.

The zoetrope of life fading

Although I earned no redemption