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Everyone passes through. I don't keep them in mind either. It can't be helped.
You've been carrying that junk as if it's important.
People saw you from a distance and thought you were strange.
Even so you laughed and said to me "this is treasure."

While I'm gaining something big, I wonder if there's something I've lost.
I don't understand.
This place I've regained, I bet it's slightly different.

If you're there, I'm always laughing.
If you're there, I'm always laughing. I'm crying. I'm living.
If you're not there, there's nothing.

Was it myself? Was it the people? Or was it
only a clock? The thing that seemed like it would break.

How much do the arms that continue to protect the junk hurt?
What have they sacrificed?
Even though you'll never be perfect, you shine in your imperfection.

The path you found isn't wide.
The path you found isn't wide, it isn't narrow, somehow
you alone have made it better for me.

Because you were there, I'm always laughing.
Because you were there, I was always laughing. I was crying. I was living.
If you're not there, there's nothing.