Through the classroom window, I absentmindedly ask the sky
What's the purpose of my life? I have no idea

Things I want to know but don't think myself are all I study
As I realized this, I was losing my own voice

In my textbook's margin, I wrote my ideals
Not to do as I'm told, but to have the freedom of a soaring bird

Though I showed my dreams, my granted power and ungranted just become bitter
When I can't even decide the length of my skirt or do as I'd like
Where am I?

The voice in my heart answered "you're here."
The sky is beautiful, though...