【Vocaloid Original】(Host)age【Otomachi Una English】

Oh man, I wonder what this song is about :I say, staring at anything but my strangself in the mirror: who could possible know :still not looking: I wonder if anyone could possible know :I'm never gonna look:. Anyway, I actually love making songs alike to this one; slow, melodic, organic, poetic. They are some of my favourites to make. I also love to create lyrics with several ways of meaning, and several meanings. And I love when people try to crack those meanings...A LOT. I get all giddy AND/OR cry (positive crying, i am a crybaby). anywhooo! streaming: https://open.spotify.com/track/2YjAlmDiHLLoCK16H45dS9?si=5J1OR4-MQcSsaOoP0AlPMA&context=spotify%3Aalbum%3A2xL8t7umpkbn6Mqwr2Cwws Instrumental: https://youtu.be/c1M4JAesWBc?si=YalDaQvCf_3xCKJP Lyrics: I burn through the pages there’s no room to stage this i’ll just have to say it the way it is i’ve run through the mazes i’ve gathered up amazement But I can’t feel the pavement That don’t breathe and i can’t find my child i’m waiting out the time I’ll find a way to make the clock run on its own sometime I’ll find a hole so tiny I’ll make it worth a while I’ll stretch an inch so far it runs the length of half a mile and can you really blame me The way you blame the cycle? It’s an entanglement of sordid macroscopic guile so vague, yet so haunting What could it possibly mean? The way you weave the words to make a moral tapestry You do it so, so often I bet the words don’t matter I bet it’s down to how you soften over shatter There’s blood in paintings And nothing bleeds like preservation I guess the brush is sacred when it’s held but do you worship language Like words will hang the balance? the scales and the bandwidth held by the hug of brackets God has me split into thousands had me walk in seas My minds are fragile beams and heavy ceilings i wasn't meant to hold this i’m not the one at all I’m just the coffin, not the body, soul or soil and can you really blame me The way you blame the cycle? It’s an endangered type of sweetened bile so vague, yet so honest What could it possibly mean? The way you dance on words to make the colours scream You do it so, so often I bet the hurt’s an octave I bet it’s down to how you keep yourself a hostage Are you a hostage Or someone’s keeper? You’re just a hostage to the face inside the mirror