口笛 / Mr.Children

The desire to you who had swollen like the irregularity postponed as
the shadow unevenly queued up unreliable by two shaking to the north
wind produced the face from the rent of this chest.

It is far as far the whistle and prayed through all eternity and a
thinking boast point in the one that is more certain than ..sound..
word that seems to reach.

Can laugh by me to return to pick the dream of reviving at the halt
and any scene in the path between rice fields now by the hand's tying
with all the body of the smell in case of two people so that should
not become interrupted our present.

The seed cannot be blocked in the bag casually carried and the
externals lamplight material servant of the jugglery is erased and
this getting warm that you gave be erased though the one it laughs
and with Cata disappears gradually.

It is seeing even scenery in the stagnating town and ..love.. is
filled if always sitting on the bench where it passed by and looking
about.

Ah, and wrap in a dry wind to seem to being able to blow it off
easily puzzled and uneasily and wrap like all over the world
perfectly clear in the whistle gently if the rainbow was laid in the
distant sky of Ame.

In childhood
What it frantically looks for
In stepping forward and existing without fearing it in the boast this
presence ..spreading out the palm of one's hand..

The hand ties and, now, I : to the way of that whistle where the path
between rice fields sounds gently while laughing at the halt and any
scene by two people in return to pick the dream of reviving with all
the body of the smell so that our present should not become
interrupted.