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Alcohol

宵の淵に腰掛け物思い 
街は馴れ馴れしかった、当時
でも、親しい顔すれば素通り 
 
脆い思い出は溶けてしまった氷
彼はキスした手首の傷に 
朝日に素面の顔は気まずい
目の下のクマは黒い三日月 
温いシーツに香りの名残はずるい
 
外と隔離した部屋で 飲み干す傷病手当
現実に悪酔い どうせ咲かぬ蕾
間引かれるなら どうか私から
 
はしゃいだ分だけ寂しい 
空虚に化粧ほどこし
夕映えが最後に 
 
頬を赤く染めてくれる
そしたら綺麗と言って 
良かったころの思い出
口を塞いで黙らせて 
今だけ見ろって
 
ア ア ア 
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バスではいつも汗が酷い 
焦る日ほど信号は黄色い
ミーティングで静寂に身じろぎ 
動悸 他人はいつも私には遠い
 
はみ出した者が泣く 
だからどうとかじゃなく
諦めていい 理由には十分
宛名ない速達で黒が来る
 
幼い頃ママが言った
「あなたは天使だ」って
だから天国をスリップして 
この部屋に落ちた
 
すでに羽根もがれたけど 
今さら飛ぶ気もないの
だからなんだって言うの 
ただ一つ、ママごめんね
 
ア ア ア 
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フォール
 
軽薄な喧騒と耳つんざく音楽 
その波にさらわれて全部忘れたはず
こんな夜の孤独とか 
いつかの綺麗なキスとか
 
夜遊びの冬の匂いとか 
笑ったはずの季節とか
朝方打ち上げられて 
顔を覆って泣いてる
 
記憶の死骸達でアクセサリー作って
「綺麗でしょ?」「綺麗でしょ?」
ってずっと泣いてる
あの子は誰だっけ?なんて私に聞かないで
 
寂しい分だけはしゃいで 
後ろめたさあしらえば
無邪気な顔の夜が 
全て匿ってくれる
 
そしたら綺麗と言って 
こんな惨めな私を
口を塞いで黙らせて 
全部夢だって
 
ア ア ア 
アルカホール 
フォール
 
Vertaling

Alcohol

Pensiveness perched in the depths of the evening.
The town had been too overfamiliar with me back then.
But if I put on a friendlier face, I passed right through it.
 
Brittle memories are ice that have melted.
He kissed it, the cut on my wrist.
Feeling awkward at our sober faces in the morning sun.
Bags under our eyes like black crescent moons.
The vestiges of fragrance on his warm sheets felt unfair.
 
In a room closed off from the outside, I drink my disability benefits dry.
Getting queasy from reality. If the buds that won't bloom anyway
must be pruned, then please, let it be me who does it.
 
Just as much as I run, I'm lonely.
I apply make-up to the void
but in the end, the sunset glow
 
dyes my cheeks red for me.
And then I say that it's pretty.
The memory of good times
has me close my mouth and shuts me up.
Just look at the now, it says.
 
Aaaa
Alcohol
Fall
 
I always sweat so terribly on the bus.
The more rushed I am, the yellower the light.
At the meeting, I squirm in the stillness.
Palpitations. Others are always so far away from me.
 
Outsiders cry.
It's not just "So what?"
It's okay to give up. You have more than enough reasons.
Special delivery for no name or address: the black is coming.
 
In my youth, my Mama said
"You are an angel."
So I slipped from heaven
and fell into this room.
 
My wings have already been plucked off but
at this point I don't feel like flying anymore.
So who gives a damn?
It's just one thing: I'm sorry Mama.
 
Aaaa
Alcohol
Fall
 
Noisy clatter and ear bursting music.
Swept away by that wave, I was supposed to have forgotten everything.
Like the solitude on nights like these,
or something like a lovely kiss sometime long ago.
 
The scent of winter nightlife, or
a season when I think I must have laughed.
The early morning skyrockets.
Hiding my face, I cry.
 
I make accessories from the corpses of my memories.
"Isn't it pretty?" "Isn't it pretty,"
I ask, crying the whole time.
Don't ask me things like "Who is that girl again?"
 
Just as much as I'm lonely, I run.
If you deal with your guilt,
that night you bore an innocent face
will shield it all for you.
 
Then it'll say you're pretty.
The words close my mouth and shut me up,
this miserable me.
It's all a dream, it says.
 
Aaaa
Alcohol
Fall
 
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