In a dark wintry Tokyo In the mahjong parlour he waits Severed past running through his hands Glory comes to the one who waits In the hallways they're lying there In the red blossom of the days In your arms there is nothing left Who you are is run away My whole life Is a mystery That I can't break Our aims Is a Calvary Of our mistakes I would love to heal you now In a dark wintry Tokyo In the mahjong parlours they wait Severed past weaving through their hands Glory comes to the ones that wait In the art of the arm Red blossom of the days All I wanted to see Is that I am better All I want to believe Is that I am better Round and round All I wanted to see Is that I am better Round and round