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Even though I closed the book, The final period was never drawn. Even when the day fading down, My heart is still calling out to you. The scenes I thought were long forgotten Quietly open up once again. As if time is flowing backward, It winds right back inside of me. A never-ending story, Time is moving while standing still. Like a sentence that remains erased, We are still reading each other. To call it the final end, There's too much breath left inside. Today again, we write along, Turning to our next page. Above the seasons passing by, The footprints have grown so faint. But every time the cold wind blows, That name begins to shake again. A heart that cannot be explained, Connected though we cannot reach. A single invisible thread, Still remains between you and me. A never-ending story, The confessions we couldn't say. Growing clearer as the night deepens, Spreading wide like the starlight. Through the lines of closed sentences, The light is quietly seeping in. As if it's not the final end, Breathing starts once again. Every single story, Doesn't always need a happy end. If only within each other's time, We can stay as a single line. A never-ending story, A warmth that will never fade away. Overlapping with the days gone by, We have grown so much deeper now. Even when tomorrow comes, This chapter will not be turned. We are still writing it down, Our never-ending story. Still writing... Never-ending story.
