(Old Feelings)
When missing you becomes a habit, when caring for you becomes a habit, when loving you becomes a habit, what else can I do? When the romance has changed so much, do I still have the courage to look forward to you and wait for our meeting?
I have never trusted that my world could be so perfect.
Pain, loneliness, and some fatigue.
I don't allow others to enter my zero-degree space at will.
I'd rather be alone and not think about anyone else.
Is being together just a kind of comfort?
Break away from the past and then forget everything.
I never thought that one day my ending would suddenly change completely.
Who will catch my powerless arms?
Why am I crying? Who is right or wrong? For whom am I sorry?
I won't cry anymore. Who is right or wrong? For whom am I withering?
Enter the zero-degree space and wait until everything splits.
Even if love is dangerous, we face it together.
There's no time to guard against unheard-of vows.
How can I learn to adapt to a future with more love?
Entering the zero-degree space, finally everything breaks apart.
Even if love is tiring, I will not regret it.
Put down all defenses, and nothing matters.
Escape the dark world and start a new tomorrow.
This fragmented lyrics made me feel a touch of sorrow,
moist yet tender.
Without any words, without anyone.
Buried alone in the space waiting, tiredness has already arisen in life.
Slowly dragging the weary body, yielding to the world, happiness and sadness seem to have stopped visiting.
Is it pitiful to have no joy or sorrow?
Will there come a morning where I feel separated from the world and no longer open my mouth?
My heart is melancholy. On the path of love, I have gained some insights, but as I look back on every step of the way,
I walked so lonely.
The shackles of love grow heavier day by day.
Lighting a cigarette, the smoke rises. The gray smoke rings inadvertently reflect the traces of time, all falling under my eyes.
Looking through the sea of clouds leaves only an empty heart; geese go and return, leaving the sky full of sorrow. Many fields have turned into fertile lands, and once again, dried wood blossoms anew.
Yesterday's emotions linger, yet the person remains unfinished; dreams return, searching in vain for an empty pavilion.
Regretting that our fated relationship was determined in a previous life, two lifetimes of flowers bloom, two lifetimes of sorrow.