Pulp
takeda naoki
Dry mouth
No word comes up at all
Write down some regrets
On the palm
I'm scared
We got not time to lose
My throat's nearly
reduced to pulp
Nothing
That's what I'm engaged in
Feel like being tied
On the wheel chair
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
Sometimes I look back
Where I've walked
Sometimes put myself In the past
Nothing
That's what I'm engaged in
Feel like being tied
On the wheel chair
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I worry about
how much I'm cried up
I'm cried up I'm cried up