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You're growing old in the distance...
You say: "I'm going to decay with the world, will you join?"
If yes, draw a line with a pencil.
Many long lines will merge into a wave, converge into a swell.
One day, our two lines will meet in the great ocean.
So, I set off.
But, the rising and falling sea...
Cannot retain the lines from which I came.
My longing turns into a bewilderment of where to go.
Broken, worn-down lead cores,
Shaved pencil shavings,
Lingering pencil stubs,
Drifting in the vast sea, gathering, scattering, sinking, floating—
Come, a toast—a toast—a toast—
To the sea, to meeting.
To the world, to decaying together.
You're growing old in the distance...
You say: "I'm going to decay with the world, will you join?"
If yes, draw a line with a pencil.
Many long lines will merge into a wave, converge into a swell.
One day, our two lines will meet in the great ocean.
So, I set off.
But, the rising and falling sea...
Cannot retain the lines from which I came.
My longing turns into a bewilderment of where to go.
Broken, worn-down lead cores,
Shaved pencil shavings,
Lingering pencil stubs,
Drifting in the vast sea, gathering, scattering, sinking, floating—
Come, a toast—a toast—a toast—
To the sea, to meeting.
To the world, to decaying together.