you say those proverbs as if you had contrived them
I know your arrogance, but do not point it out
and you've not changed a bit in three long dismal years
I think your flaw isn't so much your fault as a charm
maybe I will meet you one day, maybe wednesday, maybe not...
still I'm sure to meet you anyway, maybe thursday, maybe not...

I want to be you
just like a leaf that has flown away with the wind and the rain
this "romance" is so mellow, and "so real"
just like a song that has died away with a flash in the night

I would like to be composed of you

you tell your stories as if you had no respect for anyone
I sing my songs as if I were a prostitute
you take a snap at me, and stuff yourself on my welfare
I feel like I am clinging to a cloud
maybe I will kiss you slowly, maybe quickly, maybe not...
still I'm sure to kiss you anyway, maybe sweetly, maybe not...

I want to be you
it's hard to spend a lifetime for myself with the quakes and the storm
this "romance" is an error, and "surreal"
it's clear that I love your insensitiveness like the hills and the sky

I would like to be merged into you