Without a Trace

The silent consciousness peels away
Slowly, without making a sound
Turning to ashes, scattering into pieces
Just that
Just that
without a trace

She, ignorant, is
More cowardly than powerless
At the bottom of subconsciousness, spring
Questioning the existing consciousness
The lotus in front cannot be seen

Breathing in the standing season
You, waiting for salvation, are wet
The dried song that can no longer be heard
Is crying aimlessly

Tears shed in loss
Flow out, flowing into suffering
As if everyone is killing themselves
Closing their eyelids

The entwined body spirals
Slowly, slowly twisting
Asking a thousand questions to the throat
What can save me
The lotus in front is dying

Breathing in the standing season
You, waiting for salvation, are wet
The dried song that can no longer be heard
Is crying aimlessly

The falling haze rings out
Living young but disappearing

If this song
Reaches you
You would probably think it's hypocritical

Breathing in the standing season
You, waiting for salvation, are wet
The voice that was sung as if it could be heard
Knows the irreversible sin