Watching the ocean cherryspit villages across the fields
And spew the wreckages of an age into the Kyoukai
Where the flotsam and the derelict are indiscernible
From the hoardings and the fabric of the cot, the house
The workstation and the supermarket fittings
I can’t help but think that
If the waves keep rolling, rolling
Rolling on
They would be strong enough
To wash away the shadows
On the steps of the Sumitomo Bank
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