A full glass and an empty one
Map of loneliness with a gun
Hopeless words on a white paper
Cartridges of the black old pencil
Memories of the cold days
Nothing seems to be okay
All of them make me cry
I should become a butterfly
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom
The sound of solitude guitar
Harmonic sack, dunhil cigar
Like a wizard inside t he smoke
Mesmerizing stuffs as she pokes
Her pokes dancing around
Her magic covers the ground
All of them make me cry
I should become a butterfly
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom
All of them make me cry
I should become a butterfly
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom
Like a silkworm
I hide inside cocoon
Like a silkworm
This is my doom