The migratory birds came over
And they can fly away after but
When the morning comes I’ll try
Drawing my story in pencil.
Its name derives from no meaning
And maybe it will come to mean ‘me’
I’ll try drawing my story
In pencil.

I chase after the birds that fly away far
And I am taking care not to force myself too hard
There is a second page. My story is
Just a question on whether I stay or go.
Between the correct choice, the future, and the facts before me
When I’m just inferring that I’m being left behind
I definitely can’t meet a story where ‘you’ exist.

On a day like today where the wind blows and blows
I will try walking like a bird.
Eventually in the grasp of the wind
It’ll be nothing but hard times, see.

My expression is so dark because
Of many things but don’t ask about it.
When the morning comes I’ll try
Drawing my story in pencil.
Upon my back, wings of withered feathers
Will these really carry me to become myself?
I’ll try drawing my story
In pencil.

I chase after the birds that fly away far
And I am taking care not to force myself too hard.
There is a second page. My story is
Just a question on whether I stay or go.
To Family Mart, 7-11, or Ministop
I can’t decide in this ambiguous mind.
I definitely can’t meet a story where ‘you’ exist.

On a day like today where the wind blows and blows
I will try walking like a bird.
Eventually in the grasp of the wind
It’ll be nothing but hard times, see.

All I possess are
Strawberry jam
And a scottish fold cat.
I look over the vast sky.
My height, and my name
Are already here.

I chase after the birds that fly away far
And I am taking care not to force myself too hard
There is a second page. My story is
Just a question on whether I stay or go.
Between the correct choice, the future, and the facts before me
When I’m just inferring that I’m being left behind
I definitely can’t meet a story where ‘you’ exist.

On a day like today where the wind blows and blows
I will try walking like a bird.
Eventually in the grasp of the wind
It’ll be nothing but hard times, see.
On the day that I become my bolder self
I’ll crawl on the ground like a bird
Eventually in the grasp of the wind
It’ll be nothing but hard times, see.