Babylon

kuuchuu hankagai no zattou kokkyou wa PASUTERU-gatame FURATTA shindou gendouryoku tanbiron gouhou WANDARANDA ran'you SHISUTAA no inori mo DORAGGU ni satsutaba no kakeru waraigoe mure o nashita suteinu no gaisen PAREEDO hoechirasu koe kanshu no te uso-mamire damashiai sontoku kanjou shinra-banshou neratta shinzou GOMU-teppou sekai wo kataru HARIBOTE GYANGUSUTA ni renban naranda GUANBURU tobaku mattaira na kono machi de sodatte atarimae wo suteta juutaku no yousai zousenjo fuyuusen no tsuiraku-ato goraku minzoku kouyougo mo kondou enshin-bunri MERII-GOO-RAN kanransha wa jinja no katasumi kouhai shijou satta SURAMU hinmin yotte RAVI-DAVI sanzan na onzou nakayubi tateta shoujo wa dare? "matte, HANII, DAARIN!" bon'you na kangei ni akireta kassai nakushita hiyatoi MUUBII SUTAA ni utta PURAIDO kanjou TORIPPU densen hayashita tettou miage rojiura de odoru nagare nagareru hito no umi harabai de nedaru o-men'ya kane no ne de nakiyamu akago sono te ni dakareta urei wo RARARA... asai KIMI no uta nettaiya ni naku zakkyo BIRU ROKKU SUTAA ni senzen no taida sandome no shinjuu heitai no retsu ukiyo ni waratte tengu no men hazushite yo sekai wo kataru HARIBOTE GYANGUSUTA ni renban naranda GUANBURU tobaku makkura na kono machi to o-wakare hora jaa mata ashita.

Its shopping district in the sky is congested, and its borders consolidated with pastel. Flutter oscillation, driving force, and theories of aestheticism are being misused legally by the wonderlanders. Even the nuns' prayers are turning into drugs, while laughter of gamblers with rolls of money can be heard everywhere. Packs of stray dogs are walking a parade of triumphant return, with their barking voices scattering the applauding hands of the audience. Everything is covered with lies, everyone is deceiving everyone, emotions are gained and lost, and nothing can be spared. People's hearts are being targeted by rubber band guns. Telling the gangsta-wannabes about the world, you attach serial numbers to them and gamble gamble! People are born and raised on these perfectly level streets, so they have cast away their ordinary life. Residential buildings are also used as shipyards, covered with blimps' crash remains. In this nation of entertainment, even the official language has become fuzzy. Here's a merry-go-round capable of centrifugation, and there's a Ferris wheel in the corner of a shrine. At the decayed markets are clusters of slum dwellers. The intoxicated lovey-dovey couples present such an unsightly stereo image, and who is that girl who just gave me a middle finger?! "Wait, honey, darling!" This kind of mediocre welcome has gotten really tiring. To the part-time movie stars, who have lost their cheers from the audience, you have sold your pride, and indulged in psychedelic trips. Staring up at steel towers that have electric lines growing out of them, you frolic in the shady back valleys. Within the flowing waves and waves of people, a mask dealer is on his stomach and soliciting for the baby held in your arms, who, usually a source of distress, has stopped crying at the chime of the bell. Lalala... It's a shallow song about the shallow you. On a hot and humid night, you cry to the rock star in your mixed living quarter; filled with listlessness before the war, you attempt love suicide for a third time. Smile evasively at the rows of soldiers, and take off your tengu mask already. Telling the gangsta-wannabes about the world, you attach serial numbers to them and gamble gamble! Bidding goodbye to this pitch black street, I guess, uh, see you tomorrow then.