綻びの朝 (Hokorobi no Asa)

[Verse 1]
The bitter taste of yesterday still stains the air, a worn-out pattern.
Sunlight, a thin thread, finds the dust dancing in the room.
Empty glasses hum a quiet, off-key tune on the cold wood.
And my fingers trace the fretboard, seeking what was true in solitude.
A new design emerging from the quiet, understood.

[Chorus]
This is the song woven from the quiet hours.
A melody unspooled, finding strength in fragile flowers.
No grand design, just honest, simple grace.
A gentle truth reflected in this lonely space.

[Verse 2]
Faces blurred like faded indigo, laughter a frayed edge.
The words we spun, they tangled, a silent, unspoken pledge.
Now the ancient olive trees outside stand sentinel and deep.
And truth, like salt on skin, is all I choose to keep, as shadows softly creep.
A tapestry of whispers, secrets that I reap.

[Chorus]
This is the song woven from the quiet hours.
A melody unspooled, finding strength in fragile flowers.
No grand design, just honest, simple grace.
A gentle truth reflected in this lonely space.

[Bridge]
Let the threads unwind, let the old patterns softly fade.
This fabric of my soul, a quiet promise made.
To mend the tears, no grand design or masquerade.

[Outro]
The quiet strength, a pattern newly sewn.
My morning hymn, for this raw heart alone.