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I wait for tomorrow with my still and my serenity
I wait for nothingness, I know, but my sorrow has
Wings that are no so white as I'd like to have
But it's no go, it's so late
To change estimation of this world where I don't want
To live

Last firing match, so light, so warm
Lightens my face, so pale, so cold
Last firing match, so snug, so plain
Counts out our lives that were too vain

I desired have something that could stop our unneeded grief
And now I get measly, little thing which I hold in my hands
In my hands, there is force, you can't ideate
In my hands, there is key for enfranchisement
Little does, just one strike, have you fear or not
Little does, we will dust, we will only naught
I heard about cloud-world, about gate which is all of gold
It became of my dream, so don't wait and come with me out

Last firing match...

We all are burning like white-hot fire brand, it seems to be our end
Have you seen glorious, wonderful gate, there will be our new land
I hope you didn't forget about wings, you need it of flying
But look at, oh no, it's not at all good, they are also burning

wait for tomorrow...

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