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Everything is but mundane ideals and hopes
I already lose sight; of myself, of oneself, of someone

I prefer the pain from the wound that I gouged out personally, it's the only tightrope
The reticent red liquid won't give away anything wake up to realize... I.D. of myself

The faint broken nightmare of the wings of my lost ego
I'm like the mannequin with the seeds of control buried within

My unrest simplifies, as it sinks throbbing into the red wound in my pulsating vein
Before my prey does, I pierce the nail in to wake up to realize... I.D. of myself

Dead to the utmost, my heart is gone under a sky that embraces but ash
All the voices I lost sight of are innumerable

The light won't bathe the jeers that the darkness spat out
Like ants that form lines, I can only merely abide by the rules

My unrest simplifies, as it sinks throbbing into the red wound in my pulsating vein
Before my prey does, I pierce the nail in to wake up to realize... I.D. of myself

If I forgot that my wings were connected to this body
then I can't get anywhere to that place of refuge
Even if these feet for example, that collapse into despair, are covered in darkness
that inextinguishable light still exists in these arms

The lengths of time are tied together, at the ends of which my epilogue awaits
Burned out to the last... the end is voices fallen into desolation, but...

Dead to the utmost, my heart is gone under a sky that embraces but ash
I now release the myself that I had lost
hardship over... this voice is...
I go towards the other side that I still cannot see...