We have no clue...
why we came around.
Always, we have no clue...
when we will come around.
Where have you been? Are you alive yet?
Two stories begin underneath the distant sky.
The vertical string is you, the horizontal one is me.
Someday, the fabric ours intertwine...
may be able to heat someone up.
Why am I living my life?
A hangnail the trail of that day left, when I was lost.
Run and pursue the dream.
A hangnail the trail of that day left, when I tripped over.
What does this string intertwine?
So precarious that I was trembling in the winds.
The vertical string is you, the horizontal one is me.
Someday, the fabric ours intertwine...
may be able to heal someone's wounds.
The vertical string is you, the horizontal one is me.
People say that work is destined to be.
That we come across that string we must.
