Before we met, there was moonlight, silent rain, and empty streets. They were only pieces of another night, until a song opened the first door. さまよった 路地裏 湿った空気 アルコールの匂い わたしだけの 場所だった Beyond that door another story waited, another melody, another quiet world. We never searched for perfect words. We simply listened to what remained. 扉が開く 空気が逃げる 月あかり 落ちる影 ことばたちが 髪を揺らした Night after night, another song. Another door left open. Somewhere between the silence and the sound, something quietly began. Every door became a song. Every song carried us on. Somewhere between the silence and the sound, we found a place that still feels like home. この場所に あなたはきっと 似合わない 漂う香りが 美しすぎて 開いた扉 閉じられないまま While the coffee slowly turned cold, another melody filled the room. We never noticed how time disappeared. Only that the music stayed. If every story starts somewhere, perhaps ours began with a song… and a door. 同じ月が 照らし出す たたずむ影 かすかな歌声 開いた扉 Every door became a song. Every song carried us on. Somewhere between the silence and the sound, the night never really ended. 湿った空気 路地裏に やさしい香りが 漂った 取っ手越しに 重なる指先 月あかりが 照らし出す
