鈍ら刀をいきなり研磨しようものなら折れるに決まってる。全力で打ち鍛えておかなければな。
夏至の頃も大分過ぎて帰る頃には真っ暗だろうが、気にしない。どうせオレに月の光はもう照らさない。
I decide to continue fighting, without hope.
I am a cogwheel of the fate.
I've already fired furnace of my heart,
And kept blood and tears in crucible of my brain.
Criticism is my hammer,
And organ is my anvil.
Withstood too much pain to realize ideal.
No Need to Hope
Nor Known to Hope
With no meaning, nor being.
Create the lance to penetrate someone's grief.
My whole life was ——
“Unlimited Blood Works”