What is true strength? I wander in search of it Is it being proud? Is it making a vow? I still can't see it I continually questioned the smile within my memories I won't forget the heat still lingering in my hands When I'm deluded, hesitant, and suffering Without gouging out my sins, hiding, or running away And using my own voice, just the way it is I question my courage and strike my determination That is the sacred sword I hold aloft! It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if I shed tears My song will never lose, and as long as it exists in my heart My destiny and my past and my grief and my memories and my love- I grasp them tight and now, I struggle, I writhe, and then I stand up I've discovered who it is I truly am, and I carve this day into my chest The brilliance that is this cross-what meaning does it hold? The oblivion that dwells in its name is my blaze Loading my love into this silver left arm of mine I'll rend the darkness, eradicate evil, and unleash the unrivalled I solo through my part in this whole world Exposing all of my tender self Even if there comes a day where I fall to my knees Not even my heart, and not even my dreams Will be defiled by the dirt… never! It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if my fist is mundane I must swing it out, and as long as my hand is memorizing how Even my frustration and my humiliation and whatever else there is- I grasp them tight and now, I set my body aflame A miracle covered in mud is still being watched over by the heavens I question my courage and strike my determination That is the sacred sword I hold aloft! It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if I shed tears My song will never lose, and as long as it exists in my heart Down the road my tears travel, I'm sure that the beautiful Future in my own color must be sparkling bright…! It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if my fist is mundane I must swing it out, and as long as my hand is memorizing how My wailing and weeping and hatred and agony and everything else I have- I grasp them tight and now, I struggle, I writhe, and then I stand up I've discovered who it is I truly am, and I carve this day into my chest Right here… is the song of my cross
もがく感じがマリアらしいよね
What is true strength? I wander in search of it
Is it being proud? Is it making a vow? I still can't see it
I continually questioned the smile within my memories
I won't forget the heat still lingering in my hands
When I'm deluded, hesitant, and suffering
Without gouging out my sins, hiding, or running away
And using my own voice, just the way it is
I question my courage and strike my determination
That is the sacred sword I hold aloft!
It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if I shed tears
My song will never lose, and as long as it exists in my heart
My destiny and my past and my grief and my memories and my love-
I grasp them tight and now, I struggle, I writhe, and then I stand up
I've discovered who it is I truly am, and I carve this day into my chest
The brilliance that is this cross-what meaning does it hold?
The oblivion that dwells in its name is my blaze
Loading my love into this silver left arm of mine
I'll rend the darkness, eradicate evil, and unleash the unrivalled
I solo through my part in this whole world
Exposing all of my tender self
Even if there comes a day where I fall to my knees
Not even my heart, and not even my dreams
Will be defiled by the dirt… never!
It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if my fist is mundane
I must swing it out, and as long as my hand is memorizing how
Even my frustration and my humiliation and whatever else there is-
I grasp them tight and now, I set my body aflame
A miracle covered in mud is still being watched over by the heavens
I question my courage and strike my determination
That is the sacred sword I hold aloft!
It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if I shed tears
My song will never lose, and as long as it exists in my heart
Down the road my tears travel, I'm sure that the beautiful
Future in my own color must be sparkling bright…!
It's fine even if I'm weak, it's fine even if my fist is mundane
I must swing it out, and as long as my hand is memorizing how
My wailing and weeping and hatred and agony and everything else I have-
I grasp them tight and now, I struggle, I writhe, and then I stand up
I've discovered who it is I truly am, and I carve this day into my chest
Right here… is the song of my cross
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