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Your gaze is so very tender as you stare at me
Over there, on that little flimsy chair.
With a gentle, happy face,
She agreed, smiling

While some kind of loud noise was building,
In my mind, it was as though it was collapsing
Unable to move, I just kept standing there

"Why isn't it me?" I asked, but
It's not some kind of foolish example.
You were there as I had never seen you before.
As I can only, only feel from far away,
How on earth can I express this emotion?

From time to time, the sorrow in your eyes
Would show me the reason, so...

That which can be given to you --
I can't give it; no one can.
Is it only that one person who is so understanding that can?

When do you first miss her?
About that time, I realized the truth.
I saw through the lies, and even if I pretend they are truth
It's just, just so excessively empty.
This feeling.... Is this known as "love"?

"Why isn't it me?" I asked, but
It's not some kind of foolish example.
You were there as I had never seen you before.
Did you feel it from far away?

When do you first miss her?
About that time, I realized the truth.
I saw through the lies, and even if I pretend they are truth
It's just, just so excessively empty.
This feeling is certainly known as "love", isn't it?