She knows I’m angry and cold, but I’m a sensitive guy. They know I’m angry and cold, but do they know the reasons why?
Sometimes I wonder “Am I going too fast?” Sometimes I wonder if I’m going fast enough?
With every second passing I get so anxious. Will anything I do be something of first class? …
Hm, this unclear anxiety, is something I hate; I think it might be that I don’t have the heart for this race.
Ah, yet the look that’s in her eyes, it’s amorous and kind; and yet the look that’s in my eyes, it vandalizes all I see.
Sometimes I wonder am I going too fast? Sometimes I wonder if I’m going fast enough?
With every second passing I get so anxious. Will anything I do be something of first class?
Sometimes I wonder if my heart, it beats at all? Or if it’s just the rhythm of my endless walking feet;
Stop. No– don’t walk when I say go– stop, don’t walk when I’m saying more.
