It's midnight.
I feel weaker than before,
Morning seems far away.
The one who used to live
through the daydream,
can now not endure the day.

Endure the day.

It's midnight,
and I stand in the midst
of everything I'm meant to be.
I can't remember,
anything, anything at all,
but nothing is the same.

Haven't I been here,
a long, long time,
since yesterday,
between now and never.

And madness suits me,
I'll confess.
Mother One import the air.

I will never be the same.
I will never be the same.

It's midnight.
I've become more aware.
It's the beauty of my suffering.
And furthermore there's
my self control ,
which I can not rely on.

Not rely on anymore.