you say those proverbs as if you had contrived them
I know your arrogance, but do not point it out
and you’ve not changed a bit in three long dismal years
I think your flaw isn’t so much your fault as a charm
maybe I will meet you one day, maybe wednesday, maybe not…
still I’m sure to meet you anyway, maybe thursday, maybe not…
I want to be you
just like a leaf that has flown away with the wind and the rain
this «romance» is so mellow, and «so real»
just like a song that has died away with a flash in the night
I would like to be composed of you
you tell your stories as if you had no respect for anyone
I sing my songs as if I were a prostitute
you take a snap at me, and stuff yourself on my welfare
I feel like I am clinging to a cloud
maybe I will kiss you slowly, maybe quickly, maybe not…
still I’m sure to kiss you anyway, maybe sweetly, maybe not…
I want to be you
it’s hard to spend a lifetime for myself with the quakes and the storm
this «romance» is an error, and «surreal»
it’s clear that I love your insensitiveness like the hills and the sky
I would like to be merged into you
