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