Sleeping in the deep in the Rip
A sobbing Siren and a table bed. A cicada in a cricket cage chirps.
Ah, lend me your silence. A castle of needles. “The cradle is swaying.”
A seductive coping method in an uninterrupted sentence. “Go ahead and cry.”

Sleeping in the deep in the Rip.
Lights and dreams. Life reminiscent of a mirror in hollow time.
So lend me your silence. The smooth ending slows down. “Outside is a cicada outburst.”
Give it brilliantly. “Sleep, boy.”

A brittle future with you, who believed that love can save the world
We shouldn’t be drowned in our flowing tears
When I can listen to a gentle song I’m the guardian
Joining our fingers that we can believe in, we should sleep deeply

Sleeping in the deep in the Rip
If I touch the dreams, days of shallow sleep in drifting anxiety
At least change into empty space. I was satisfied with joyous words. “Dream quietly.”
Just like saying to a basket of relief, “Autumn rain is rice bran.”

Believe in tomorrow. What is the difference in you?
[Notice] Line of your sight. You need you.
Block your ears from the sad song, spoiled lover
Spining the dreams that continue into summer. You should sleep now.

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