She's the sort of person you'd usually find in books.

The tired sunsets and the tired people.
It takes a lifetime to die and no time at all.

I have buried you in every place I've been, you keep ending up in my shaking hands.

Perhaps it isn't love when I say you are what I love the most - you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.

From the moment I saw her,
I knew she was worth the broken heart.

It all comes down to the last person you think of at night.
That's where your heart is.

O tired heart, why do you offer yourself to a harsh world, knowing that it will break you?.

In loving me, you hold a knife against my throat. In loving you, I tell you exactly where to cut.

It's strange. I felt less lonely when I didn't know you.

Go then and find your refuge of selfless love.
I'll go and search the monasteries one by one.

In thousands of agonies, I exist.

Buried in your thoughts, I am detached from the chaos of the world.

You'll meet someone that makes you regret your kindness.

Ever since my house burnt down
I see the moon more clearly.

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Hurting them back will not heal your pain.

But, we must never hope in anything.
Hope is a terrible thing.

Her heart chooses to feel what her mind chooses to ignore.

Look into my eyes,
hear the words I can't say.

And I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

You made me believe in something that was not even true.