The sunrise insists on gladness. But how can I be glad. Now my flower is dead. Oh, sun. I see you happy. You've made the morning dew. Now you're showing me the truth but I don't want to believe you...
The sunrise insists on gladness. But how can I be glad. Now my flower is dead. Oh, sun. I see you happy. You've made the morning dew. Now you're showing me the truth but I don't want to believe you...