Mom, why is that
the things we were brought up with
are destroyed by ourselves, as the days keep coming?
ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
The collage breaks into pieces
but it’s not thrown away
There’s nothing in my hands
even when you’re holding them...
Be my last...
be my last...
Be my last...
be my last...
Please you have to
be my last...
Unknown friends told me to do my best
But this love was a mistake
No, it wasn’t a mistake
ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
There’s nothing to grasp with my hands..
how far will this dream go?
With my hands
With my hands
With my hands
With my hands
With my hands,
be my last...
ah ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah
ooh ooh ooh
ah ah ah ah
ah ah ah ah
ooh ooh ooh
Be my last...
be my last...
Be my last...
be my last...
Please you have to
be my last...
Rather than being together some day,
I would be with you tonight, just for a hour
Who is the adult,
who’s connected hand is still empty?
Be my last...
be my last...
Be my last...
be my last...
Please you have to
be my last...