the breeze messed up my hair

I reached out my hand

I returned to my strange hometown

The palm of my hand is a painting you left behind

In a word, Ye ~ ~ ~

Dadada ~ ~

Our future

is my dependence

It seems that I am. Standing at the end of the world with a bosom

The breeze messed up my hair

When I looked up

I returned to a strange home

The palm of my hand was a painting you left behind

In a word, Ye ~ ~ ~

Dadada Dadada ~ ~

Our future

is my dependence

.