(from NIL by the GazettE)
I knew it from the beginning. So I didn't feel sorrow at all.
Little by little, little by little. It's as counting numbers.
Colours of withering plants get blurred. Thus I don't realize the end of a season.
The day, which traces footsteps, reads the day, which listens to footprints.
Without any wishes, I can't change anything about tomorrow.
I follow the sound of withering plants and feel the end of a season.
When the flowers are blooming, what will be left with me?
The moon closes the curtain but the sun shines on me.
I knew it from the beginning. So I didn't feel sorrow at all.
Even if I wake up and the night doesn't end. And even if there are no shiny stars there.
Even if the lights in the town vanish...
I saw enough of the happy faces of the one I should watch over. And the end of the one that I loved.
I am satisfied with it.
.......Song of the sheep in dark long night.
-The End-