In the avenue where I’ve dreamed more 100 times,
I see people standing still
I notice the sound, it’s coming from depth from the sea,
You’re calling me faintly,
Sobbing with the voice which is unnoticeable yet well-known
And staying in a transient song.
The inaudible wind, even for Birds flying high in the sky,
It disturbs the tower,
On the hight in Ancient sky,
You’re calling me still now,
Please come to me with flowers.
I shall throw myself in the voice,
Like a old sailor trying to leave into the sea on a stormy day.
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Tobira, a land of 3000 nautical miles seen in dreams
Kicking the fertile earth,
I dance a sacred dance, a dagger at my side
Sitting in the primera throne is
the sunburned “King of Haze”
I stab the goat in the back, dyeing it red
Flowers fall into that skillful performance,
and more than 300 pairs of eyes stare in wonder
The sacrifice awakens
The voices of the people call to the flames
The blood burns, and between the water and the rising flames,
the aeonian gears of Paranesia begin to turn
A 3.3 second-long drama
Within that origin’s arcanum,
beyond dreams, and absolutely everything ordinary,
is a spirit in the form of that shadow
The sunburned “King of Haze”
The voices of people call to the flames
Behold, the Paranesian Circle Circle Circle
Circle Circle Behold it
The Paranesian Circle Circle
Circle Circle Behold it
The gears turn Inevitably and abruptly
this nightmare of ecstasy swells to a climax
Devouring depletion, spewing abundance,
it rains hopeful light into the vessel of death
Is it the paradise of the fire’s flame,
or the motordrive of a holy wheel?
The Paranesian Circle Circle Circle
Even smooth speech turns to grim sobbing The sacrifice Beyond dreams
A quiet, nameless successor Rising Falling Rising Falling
Is it the paradise of the fire’s flame,
or the motordrive of a holy wheel?
The Paranesian Circle Circle
The Paranesian Circle Circle Circle
Behold, the Paranesian Circle Circle Circle Circle
Circle Circle Circle Behold it!
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