The end of things
Becomes unexpectedly delayed and
So do our beliefs.
They grow, wilt, and end so…
Everyone wants the feeling of walking and to stop turning around.
They are checking what’s piled up.
We can’t become adults.
We can’t give up the train that children rode on.
Well, dreams come and go.
We understand and agree easily and we aren’t able to put that thing into words. Using every trick we begin walking, but the train is the tall sky above me.
Run and go
I wonder where we’ll go…
The untold reason is that we don’t have sturdy boots so we never become used to it.
Will the theory grow?
It’s regrettable, and I become barefoot and stand on tiptoes.
They’re stronger than I thought.
With these legs I will try to walk.
In a cloud of dust I found the footprints you left.
From the train car window, the thing we vowed on that day fell.
If that’s the only dream hanging down, we don’t need it.
We are able to stop walking and to stop our excuses.
Walking back to back, the sky above is the same cold...
Continue and go
I can hear the song of our vow.
Fast even faster
My legs move toward the horizon.
You can hear doubt, longing, hope, and complaints that are being sung under the same sky.
As for your far-away back, strongly and largely, it became our belief.
If you turn around you’ll be able to see that you, and I won’t aim for my horizon.
No, we don’t sympathize and agree.
I don’t do what I freely understood.
Somewhere, the train whistle sounded and we casually looked up at the future in the sky above.
I can hear the song of our vow.
