In his own desert
he quietly builds mountains.
There, he draws a tiny river with his index finger.
A single teardrop may reach the sea
or may not reach the sea.
If tomorrow, the rain should stop,
shall he go out somewhere?
As soon as the clouds disperse,
won't he gallop out to that place?
Like giving someone a rose,
he can also do such shy things.
Like betraying someone he loves,
he can also do such cruel things.
Maybe someday, it will be as though
lies convert into truth.
彼の砂漠のに そっと山を作る
そこに人差し指で 小さな川をgaの
一粒の涙が海に 届くかも 届かないかも
明日雨が止んだら どこかに出かけようか
雲が切れたらすぐに そこまで駆けてゆこうか
バラの花捧げるような 恥ずかしいこともできるし
好きな人裏切るような 残酷なこともできるし
いつの日か うそが本当に
なるように なりますように
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