In April, when I met you, I was waiting.
What are you waiting for?
Wait for the child named April to stop looking at the sky alone, wait for him to look at me with a smile.
Then, have you waited?
After waiting, I told him later that I want to teach you a song.
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Winter, no matter how cold it is, is the season of falling in love.
Missing you, no matter how much you hide them, they will appear faintly.
Forever, after all, it's just a moment that remains.
I want to see your face.
The horizon and the love line in the palm of my hand are all mentioned silently again and again.
I just hope you don't stay too far away from me.
I want to stop in the neon lights of the city, or in the distant countryside, or wherever it rains.
The wet swallows circled quietly.
When I was a child, my kite flew and flew and could no longer be seen.
This is our song, our song.