Here I stand on the intersection
Blocking every apparition
That appears before the collision
Of my unearthed passion
The debris it scattered
And the fragments it recollected
Did no good for our Russian Roulette
And my black dress that sweeped
Aiming blade to each direction
And shadow-chasing apparitions
Here I stand, on the intersection
With the devil’s spawn in front
The sinner angel on my left
The lost brothers of long-ago arts
And the mourning ladies behind in red
If I let my blade slip in front
Inferno is the runaway paradise prepared
Yet if I let my blade to my sides
Heaven hold no place for my stained black dress
And the mourning ladies in red
Have no colors that resembles mine
But that is just an extermination
That won’t even matter
For tragic is just a trapped magic