Looking at the falling sun and complaining:
The man I loved didn’t love me,
He just felt comfortable with me.
It’s burning my eyes with the orange-red light
But it doesn’t hurt at all,
The way it hurts inside covers everything.
I trusted my deep feelings to him
And he didn’t understand them.
He interpreted them the way he wanted,
Not the way I felt them, not the way they actually were.
Now I feel sorry.
Sorry for the person who believed in love,
Believed that he could be loved by someone.
It’s all gone, and this person was me.
He’s gone now too, just like the falling sun
But the one which will never rise again.