Opposite to my festive feelings
Hmm… I reminisce on my teens
They were so dark, bottomless once sunken into
Uh-huh! My regrets resurface

Ah, I pull a dark face and you laugh
My eyes become a little cloudy
I laugh too—I must have forgotten
I remember my harsh puberty for an instant, baby
Don’t dig it up. I shriek in the dead of night
Stop it, baby!

Contrary to my destructive feelings
Hmm… The present repeats itself
The past and future remain as they are. I don’t learn my lesson
Uh-huh! I sail through my dark history

See? Demons laugh at the fool passing by, too
I can’t talk back to them in my bed
I laugh, too, thinking I must have broken through
Still, I can’t make it as though they never existed

I hate, I hate, I hate those words
One, two, three. Though they stack up
My heart isn’t convenient and easy enough
To be changed
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You’re that sort of person
You’re so annoying I want to kill you
Damn it, damn it! I’m nothing like you now!

Suicidal, suicidal, suicidal teens
I wanna live, I wanna live. Now I’m in my 20s
My 30s will arrive soon, I guess
Still, my idiocy won’t be cured

Ah, I joke around, saying that I’ll die next year
I’m close to waking up in my bed
I laugh at you from a time machine
Still, even now my true nature hasn’t changed
I hate, I hate, I hate those words
One, two, three. Though they stack up
My head isn’t convenient and easy enough
For me to forget them
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You’re that sort of person
I hate you so much I want to kill you
Damn it, damn it! It still hurts, even now!

This is what your future looks like

This is my dark history in the present continuous tense

I hate, I hate, I hate those words
One, two, three. Though they stack up
My heart isn’t convenient and easy enough
To be changed
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You’re that sort of person
You’re so annoying I want to kill you
Damn it, damn it! I’m nothing like you now!
“Together!”

I hate, I hate, I hate those words
Though they’ve stacked up tens, hundreds, thousands of times
I have neither a head or heart
Easy enough to hate them, you know
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You’re that sort of person
You’re so dear to me I want to kill you
Damn it, damn it! I’m still covered in pain, baby
Suicidal teens, homicidal 20s