不真切的氛圍
什麼也抓不住的空虛
如果這不是夢
我也想不出任何更貼切的形容

夢終究會醒

我的失落感依舊
沒有的
這樣的人從不存在
以後也不會有
這個我深愛而厭惡的環境裡
容不下我一絲絲的失落

很多事到了一定的人生階段

就不會再回頭去做了
像是嘔出五臟六脯般的初戀
像是睜大眼睛認識世界
像是刻苦耐勞自助旅行

Each of us has something within us which won't be denied,

Even if it makes us scream aloud to die.

We are what we are, that is all.

Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast,

Singing its heart out and dying.

Becaue it has to, it's driven to.

We can know what we do wrong,

Even before we do it,

But self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it?

Everyone's singing his own little song,

Convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard.

We created our own thorns,

And never stop to count the cost.

All we can do is suffer the pain,

And tell ourselves it was well worth it.