[ 英詩創作 ] We will meet.
Walked out of the blood-stained storm. The saints were pushed to the limit. Nightless chanting and praising the fall of the era. Humanity lost itself in the shadows of the arena. Nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong. Said with a smile, blood on your hands. Wisdom murdered, bit by bit, to the last minute. Furious again, like I was seventeen. The iron-stained breeze caress my face. Consuming fire, with locks, shuts me in. Digging a pit so I can comfortably rest in. Down we all go, without a trace. A place for broken mind, the name of the canteen. Cut the cord, hold your breath, listen As hope falling out of the place. Gone, gone with the breeze. We will meet, we will meet. As long as there's an end to this. Do not deny what you are being. We will meet, we will meet. In the blood-stained storm. Iron-stained breeze caressing our face Chanting and screaming. Like saints, Pushed to the limit. *Do you see what I have been seeing?