There is a trace of distance
Up to the poles in our hearts.
What a real bias and virtual bias
until all apart from the common life
and the pervert in the cemetery is still useless
until the new lie withered not rhythmic
then the old record is similar to the first word
until forgotten the punctuation marks.
To the end where the end of the story
there are between which should be able to be grabbed
until completely demolished paper boat
then the written names are no longer spelled
to phrase by phrase like a poem
good and true love without punctuation.
