Stacking small stones higher and higher,

A heart exposed to the wind at evening twilight.

"It will be found someday," "It is still to be found,"

White. Sweet. Faint.

I have been doing nothing but playing shadow-tag,

Searching for a clue toward atonement.

"I will find it someday," "I will still find it,"

Long. Fragile. Distant.

You through the mirror,

And the me in the depths of my eyes.

The "you" inside of someone else

Dreams while remaining a fragment.

Because D/N/A cannot deceive,

This heart is inside of me, crimson,

Crimson.

This is not a sleepless, lost child's cry for the impossible,

These cells are engraved with love and hatred.

"Are you still going to find it?" "Are you still going to find it?"

What was the sound that couldn't be uttered?

The "you" inside of someone else

Dreams while remaining bound.

Because D/N/A cannot tell the story,

This pain too, inside of me, is crimson,

Crimson.

The shape of the mirror,

And the inverted D/N/A.

My proof,

And the warm D/N/A.

The shape of the mirror,

And the inverted D/N/A.

My proof,

And the warm D/N/A.

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•Original Video

One frame from Sell a Friend by Azari got stuck in my head, so I drew it 🎵✨

Inspired by a scene from Sell a Friend by Azari.