In a dark wintry Tokyo
In the mahjong parlor, he waits
Severed past running through his hands
Glory comes to the one who waits

In the hallways, they're lying there
In the red blossom of the days
In your arms there is nothing left
Who you are is run away

My whole life is a mystery
That I can't break
Our aims is a Calvary of our mistakes
I would love to heal you
Now

In a dark wintry Tokyo
In the mahjong parlors, they wait
Severed past weaving through their hands
Glory comes to the ones that wait
In the art of the arm
Red blossom of the days

All I wanted to see is that I am better
All I want to believe is that I am better
Round and round
All I want you to see is that I am better
Round and round