The fire is gone. Only the smell of sulfur... and the wind. Night wind... grass... I walk alone. (Sore!) The shadow of the shrine, is cold, Your empty yukata... has no warmth... Steps on the gravel, crunching slow, Looking up... at the silent sky, We wait for the spark, we wait for the end, Crimson embers bloom... then die in the black sky! Snapped string... our rusted summer, falls into ash! (Oh... sorya!) Never... look back, Never... call my name again, Rusted vermilion... washed away in the rain! Cold sulfur... on my fingertips, The ashes... falling on my hair. (Sore!) The festival is dead, Only the memory... is burning red... I hear the echo, of the drum, It beats... for the ghost of you, One last breath, before the night goes dark, Crimson embers bloom... then die in the black sky! Snapped string... our rusted summer, falls into ash! (Oh... sorya!) Never... look back, Never... call my name again, Rusted vermilion... washed away in the rain! It is... over. Crimson ashes...
