Love
The wound does and it sees. By oneThough it always deceivesIt is too impossible. It is not ..not piling up.. when if you are not. It is painful if you are not. That brilliant loveI want to do to the boast. This woundIt does, it sees, it does, and it sees. One room only meThe moonlightThe crimeshines on the becoming it wound. Even if you wish over and over againIt is not ..not piling up.. if you are not.It is painful if you are not. It ..dream.. sees. It actually sees. Your face is always seen. Love might not disappear why. Love might not disappear why. The evening comes. The night grows old. More over, the morning comes. Always the same date insideI'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry saying as for "Die". I'm sorry. Even if I dieNo matter how you compose the poetry of the apologyThe godThe godWhat it lost, too?The mind was lost.That burning love is lost.It is not ..not piling up.. if you are not. It is painful if you are not. It sleeps alone. It occurs alone. It recalled it, and it was awful and is sadness headache. It can not inform you. What not to be able glossing over to be it to depend too muchThe most painful is myself today in not the into abandon there collection but the world.I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry saying as for "Die". How weak I was!The wound does and it sees. In definitelyI of the honest truthIt cries bitterly as prayed awfully.When you can laugh each otherMore over, when it is possible to become it happilyAlready only in itMay your death that is killed at god flash and read it is goodYou may already die. When ..hand.. tyingIt disappeared to what. I also had the future. The more one it becomes though there was a road advanced by slightly two people, the moreI'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry saying as for "Die". It loves for a long time. It loves. It loves. It loves though it dies. It loves though it dies absolutely. It loves. It loves. Only you are loved. It ..full chest.. loves for a long time.