easy come easy go lyrics的八卦，Yahoo名人娛樂都在討論

Salam Ya Kekasih Allah semua 🌹

Tadi, kala sedang berjalan di Viertel, Lepak sat kat Metal Pub, saja ja nak berenti rehat kat meja luaq tu sambil layan lagu lagu Heavy Metal Klasik kat situ, selalu ngak depa main Iron Maiden punya lagu, Pastu keluaq satu mamat, sembanglah kami dari Bob Marley sampai la ke bab Heavy Matel bla bla bla bla blap bla bla bla..

Tau tau keluar juga satu lagu Maiden bertajuk ‘Revolutions’ kalau tak salah aku dari ‘Piece of Mind‘ punya album, Aku terus diam dan senyum, membiarkan jiwa ku terus terjebak dengan alunan intro lagu itu…,
Aku pejamkan mata sambil senyum menghayati baris lirik rangkap pertamanya,

‘Are okay man?’ Tanya Alex.
“Indeed I am!, but I just feel like my soul is drifting along with the lyrics of this song”

“Do you like Iron Maiden!, Do you know them??!, How come?, You look like Rastaman to me, Hahahaha!”, - Alex.

“O yes Alex!, let me tell you something, I’ve been a Fan of Iron Maiden before you were destined by God to be a drop of Sperm.. Let me enjoy it, because When any Maiden songs been playing so loud, it’s kind of straight goes into my soul..”

“The walls are cold and souls cry out in pain, An easy way for the blind to go, A clever path for the fools who know, The secret of the hanged Man the smile on his lips..”

Dan selepas dengungan Bass Steve Harris drop to end, Bruce Dickinson pun dengan nada lembut perlahannya menyebut
‘It is Youuu”..

Aku pun bangun nak teruskan perjalanan, tak tau keluar satu mamat lagi, pakai baju gambaq Lembaga mata satu mai join,

“I see you many time crossing here!, 4 days ago I saw you sat down with beautiful Girls, she wear Yellow dress at Nuestatds, near Südbad…”

“Oh Yes Sindy.., Good friend of me, Yes you were right!, She is so bloody damn hell gorgeous.. modelling”,

“Anyway What was it, there, picture Man with one eyes? A ghost or something like Devil..or what is zit ey? ”

Lelaki dari Iran itu berkata ini adalah Dajjal.

Maka kami pun proseslah, yang bestnya banyak ilmu pasai Dajjal dia tau, ‘Penyelewengan, Pembohongan’
Seterusnya merongkai tentang Khurasan Raya merupakan wilayah sangat luas sehingga sampai ke kawasan Ayahnya di lahirkan, iaitu Tus wilayah Iran.

Lepas tu kami bincang tentang Kaedah Allah Ta’ala, lalu gaulkan pendapat yang bertentangan sehingga bertemu satu penyelesaian yang sangat indah pada jiwa yang duduk di sebelah kami yang mananya berdiam dari mula kami bersembang, Anak German yang bernama Alex.

"Ok Alex which stories did turn you on the most? Story of Dajjal or the story of Makrifatullah?"

“ woOW! Leypat, I am really want to know who am I?, can I have your whatsapp number?” – Alex.

(Tengok lah Sahabat Depa lebih berminat bab Allah Ta'ala dari cerita Dajjal, sebab dalam pernualan tu Aku ada kupas kalau tak mengenal diri maka tak akan dapat mengenal Allah yang maha beserta.. Maka jangan bawak cerita Dajjal dalam akal fikiran kita dengan terlebih dahulu, kenali Allah Ta'ala yang beserta kita.. Surah Al Hadiid Ayat 3-4, surah Al Qaaf Ayat 16) 🌹❤️

. 💕 https://youtu.be/m14pMbIIQlU 💕

. .🌸🌸🌸🌸

早安!
這次來個正經一點的
保持正經原來蠻難的

Lyrics:
Yo
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow

Snap back to reality, ope there goes gravity
Ope, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that easy? No
He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope, he knows that, but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows, when he goes back to this mobile home
That's when it's back to the lab again, yo, this whole rhapsody
Better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

(You better) lose yourself in the music,
The moment you own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime

#Eminem #LoseYourself

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

Directed, Film & Edit By: Samuel O'Melia
Assistant cinematography: Mike Pagan
Produced by: Yuna Zara'ai

//

Lyrics:

Tell me
Is this alright with you?
(alright with you)
Not having me in your life
I always thought
That maybe I could be your wife
And I wouldn't mind living a lie
And still, I keep my hopes up
While you're out there
Out there alight in the dark

Your words, they come so easy
"Girl I just wanna be me"
All the sudden I'm not on your team
Replaced by the prettier things
When I see you with all these girls
I just don't understand
(understand)
I guess I'm not like the rest of them

So is this my
Punishment? [x3]
Cause baby
I'm in pain [x3]

I'm just tryna overcome
The fact that maybe I was not enough
That the only thing that I could think of
Is whether I should give up, babe

So you can be with any girl you like
(girl you like)
Singer, model, fashionista, socialite
Buy them all the things your money can buy
You don't owe nobody an alibi
Go ahead and leave me out of your life
No one's gonna ask you where you are tonight
You can tell your friends while you're all high
[x2]
"Yeah, I broke her
But she'll be alright"

"I broke her but she'll be alright"
("I broke her but she'll be alright")

I'm broken but I'll be alright

Official BILLbilly01 and Alyn cover of "High Hopes" by Kodaline.
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║╚╣║║║╚╣╚╣╔╣╔╣║╚╣═╣
╠╗║╚╝║║╠╗║╚╣║║║║║═╣
╚═╩══╩═╩═╩═╩╝╚╩═╩═╝
☆┌─┐ ┌─┐☆
　│▒│ /▒/
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　│▒ /▒/─┬─┐
　│▒│▒|▒│▒│
┌┴─┴─┐-┘─┘
│▒┌──┘▒▒▒│
└┐▒▒▒▒▒▒┌┘
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"Kodaline - High Hopes" Lyrics:

Broken bottles in the hotel lobby
Seems to me like I'm just scared of never feelin' it again
I know its crazy to believe in silly things
It's not that easy
I remember it now it takes me back to when it all first started
But I only got myself to blame for it and I accept it now
It's time to let it all go, go out and start again
It's not that easy
But I've got high hopes
It takes me back to when we started
High hopes
When you let it go go out and start again
High hopes
When it all comes to an end
But the world keeps spinning around
And in my dreams I meet the ghosts of all the people who've come and gone
Memories they seem to show up so quick but they leave you far too soon
Naive I was just staring at the barrel of a gun
I do believe it
But I've got high hopes
It takes me back to when we started
High hopes
When you let it go go out and start again
High hopes
When it all comes to an end
But the world keeps spinning around
But I've got high hopes
It takes me back to when we started
High hopes
When you let it go go out and start again
High hopes
When it all comes to an end
But the world keeps spinning around
[x2]
Yeah this world keeps spinning
How this world keeps spinning around

《daydream》
蝶々結び / Chouchou Musubi / 蝴蝶結 / A Butterfly Bow
作詞 / Lyricist：野田洋次郎（RADWIMPS）
作曲 / Composer：野田洋次郎（RADWIMPS）
編曲 / Arranger：野田洋次郎（RADWIMPS）
吉他&和聲 / Guitar & Chorus：ハナレグミ
歌 / Singer：Aimer
翻譯：澄野（CH Music Channel）
意譯：CH（CH Music Channel）
English Translation:Toria

背景 / Background - この蒼くて広い世界に - てる :
https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/58935050

版權聲明:
本頻道不握有任何音樂所有權，亦無任何營利，一切僅為推廣用途。音樂所有權歸原始創作者所有。請支持正版。

Copyright Info:
Be aware this channel is for promotion purposes only without any illegal profit. All music's ownership belongs to the original creators.
Please support the original creator.

すべての権利は正当な所有者/作成者に帰属します。あなたがこの音楽（または画像）の作成者で、この動画に使用されたくない場合はメッセージまたはこのYoutubeチャンネルの概要のメールアドレスにご連絡ください。私はすぐに削除します。

如果你喜歡我的影片，不妨按下喜歡和訂閱，你的支持就是我創作的最大原動力！
If you like my videos, please click like and subscribe! Thx :)

粉絲團隨時獲得最新訊息！
Check my Facebook page for more information!
https://www.facebook.com/chschannel/

中文翻譯 / Chinese Translation :
https://home.gamer.com.tw/creationDetail.php?sn=4885129

英文翻譯 / English Translation :
https://www.lyrical-nonsense.com/lyrics/aimer/chouchou-musubi/

日文歌詞 / Japanese Lyrics :
片っぽで丸を作って　しっかり持ってて
もう片っぽでその丸の後ろを　ぐるっと回って

間にできたポッケに入って　出て来るの待ってて
出てきたところを迎えにきて　「せーの」で引っぱって

はじめはなんとも　情けない形だとしても
同じだけ力を込めて

羽根は大きく　結び目は固く
なるようにきつく　結んでいてほしいの

腕はここに　想い出は遠くに
置いておいてほしい　ほしいの

片っぽでも引っ張っちゃえば　ほどけちゃうけど
作ったもの壊すのは　遥かに　簡単だけど

だけどほどく時も　そう、ちゃんと　同じようにね
分かってるよ　でもできたらね　「せーの」で引っ張って

ほどけやしないように　と願って力込めては
広げすぎた羽根に　戸惑う

羽根は大きく　結び目は固く
なるようにきつく　結んでいてほしいの

夢はここに　想い出は遠くに
気付けばそこにあるくらいがいい

黙って引っ張ったりしないでよ　不格好な蝶にしないでよ
結んだつもりがほどいていたり　緩めたつもりが締めていたり

この蒼くて広い世界に　無数に　散らばった中から
別々に二人選んだ糸を　お互いたぐり寄せ合ったんだ

結ばれたんじゃなく結んだんだ　二人で「せーの」で引っ張ったんだ
大きくも　小さくも　なりすぎないように　力を込めたんだ

この蒼くて広い世界に　無数に　散らばった中から
別々に二人選んだ糸を　お互いたぐり寄せ合ったんだ

結ばれたんじゃなく結んだんだ　二人で「せーの」で引っ張ったんだ
大きくも　小さくも　なりすぎないように　力を込めたんだ

中文歌詞 / Chinese Lyrics :
將一端圍成一個圓，緊緊握住
再將另一端繞過那圓，轉一圈

穿進間隙中的洞口，等著它繞過來
在穿出來的洞口接住，念出「一、二」之後拉緊

即使剛開始，只能做出慘不忍睹的形狀
只知道兩手要用一樣的力氣

我希望翅膀能大一點、結能打得更緊一點
為了打出漂亮的蝴蝶結，希望你繫得更緊，越緊越好

希望你能為我握起繩結，而回憶則放在那方——
過去的回憶留在遙遠的那方就好

儘管只拉起一端，繩結便會輕易解開
儘管破壞總是遠比創造來得容易

但是在解開繩結的時候，是啊，也是同樣的道理
我明白的，但如果可以的話，希望能一同念出「一、二」之後拉開

若為使繩結不會鬆開，而用盡全力的話
只會對展開太大的翅膀感到不知所措

我希望翅膀能大一點、結能打得更緊一點
為了打出漂亮的蝴蝶結，希望你繫得更緊，越緊越好

希望你仍能抱持夢想，而回憶則留在那方——
一回過頭便能憶起的距離就好

別坑不作聲地拉緊、也不要綁出不好看的蝴蝶結
以為綁緊了卻不經意鬆開；以為鬆脫了卻不經意拉緊

在蒼穹無垠世界裡，數不清且散落各地的線繩中
兩人循著各自選下的繩線，向著彼此靠近

聯繫彼此的線並不是被迫牽起，而是由兩人綁上——由兩人一同念出「一、二」之後拉緊的
希望它不會太大、也不會太小，由兩人一起，共同將繩結繫緊

在蒼穹無垠世界裡，數不清且散落各地的線繩中
兩人循著各自選下的繩線，向著彼此靠近

聯繫彼此的線並不是被迫牽起，而是由兩人綁上——由兩人一同念出「一、二」之後拉緊的
希望它不會太大、也不會太小，由兩人一起，共同將繩結繫緊

英文歌詞 / English Lyrics :
Take one end, and make a circle—now hold it tight
Take the other end and wrap it around behind the circle

Pass it through the pocket formed in the middle, and wait for it to come back out
Go out to meet it—And with a one, two, pull the strings tight

At the beginning, it came out so pathetically
But even still, I put the same strength into it

I want to tie it tight
So that the loops would be big, and the knot would be tight

I want you, I want you
To put your arm here, and your memories far away

Even though if you pull on only one end, it’ll come untied
It’s so, so very easy to break what someone’s made

Yet that’s how it is when you untie it, it’s exactly the same
I know that’s how it goes, but once I finish it—With a one, two, I’ll pull the strings

Praying that it wouldn’t come untied, I put some strength into it
And became transfixed by the loops that I had pulled too far out

I want to tie it tight
So that the loops would be big, and the knot would be tight

So that your dreams are here, and your memories far away
If you realize it, I’m fine with you just being there

Just shut up, don’t pull on them; don’t make the strings into a lopsided butterfly
I meant to tie them, but they’re becoming loose; I meant to loosen them, but they’re becoming tight

From all the countless and scattered contents of this blue, wide world
The two of us chose the same thread independently and reeled each other in

We weren’t tied to each other, we tied ourselves to each other—With a one, two, we pulled the strings
So that they wouldn’t be too loose, or too tight, we put our strength into it