Seems to be a fairy tale
But he’s just living underground
Picking food from rubbish bin
His rebellion is more like an exile
After infinite morning rushing hours
He quitted and just disappeared
Juice secreted by him is the symbol he’s alive
Everywhere, metro stations and the clothes of passers-by
Someone wondered, someone cried
Telling workers how he’s like
Normal briefcase, invisible eyes
They don’t know why，They don’t know why
Someone’s called the police
As well as the press
News been published on TV and broadcast
Several seasons passed
Thing’s been long suppressed
No one still remembers him but it’s still a mess
But the station-master still remembers him
And knows they won’t get rid of him
He’s shuttling back and forth in tunnels
It’s also him, who caused all the shadows
Once in the night, when the master’s on duty
The man showed up again with a sashimi
His appearance changed a lot
And people can call him the cuttleman
Again, the juice secreted
Turned into black spray
Closed over the platform
He saw two beams of light
Pierced through the dark night
And pointed at him
It’s the gaze of cuttleman
