GIRBAUD

We fetch up on a small bed and sleep in it
A day named today passes away
The two beings never lap over
They rather wear out like a cheap soap

I became impure, not being alone
Someone cries, holding a qualm
The motel enfolds such a being
In shooting stars

I take a shower but it’s so tepid
Is this purification? No, just complacency
You loved something shining
But you rather chose me

I’ve averted my glance from it, not being alone
The memory like lingering snows in my dream
Causes me to scratch the scar almost cured
I close my door

I deprive them because I cannot be alone
Even though I had nothing to take back
Cold wind knocks the window
I warm you up

Where do we go tomorrow?
B’z - Motel