Counting leaves fall in the plaza,
We are circling talking nowhere
Between Bedouin chants and Krishna drums,
Your words are walking out of our lives.
These nights of vigil, of sleeping against doors,
In another city full of the walking dead.
As if I’m falling and I can’t awake.
I see you found us another intrigue.

角が立つ毎日を、
薄ら笑いすごせるか？
心カメラに
汚れ濁った自分を写せるか？

Something to numb me from these changes
To entertain my nerves until you’re all desolved.

Kinda like what we talked about…

Maybe not a good as playing it live…