Behind the mask, the facade, and the control of time, the narrow path is lost, seagulls soar in the air, in despair, but take my hand, this wave is rushing towards us, hold on tight, it turns out night turns into day, frogs become cheerfully gay, or something like that, Behind the smiles, wavering grimace, the narrow path is lost, seagulls soar in despair, in the air, but take a hand that holds, tight, it turns out night turns into day, frogs become cheerfully gay, or something like that
