Spring
It was spring when I first met him
Standing proudly in a bench, a violin with him
His flattering eyes as he sings
His hair flowing with the breeze
His fingers gracefully playing the violin
His tears brushing through his cheeks
Everything was like a movie scene
Even if he scolds me because of something so little
Even if we argue in something so little
It’s strange that I want to treasure those little things
Did I found my place in your heart?
Tell me how could I forget everything?
You marked yourself in my heart
But not all good things last
I wish it could last

Now spring is coming
The spring that I met you in is coming
A spring…
Without you is coming…