Never accepted this big Louisville Slug Without a glance, it struck right into me and I broke So I told myself some harmless abstract theory and got to my seat
Striped pajamas and a chic jacket How stylish, I am? But somehow lost my confidence and dropped my eyes So I told myself some harmless abstract theory and got to my seat
Dizzying, sweltering, homeroom Without a trace of thrill The Bell started ringing in my ears
My classroom, 2-A Filled with KEDAMONO Monsters It’s not supposed to be me who’s wrong The topics of conversations and the way they get you cracking up It’s the outsides that are a little strange, right?
Looks and spirits, I’m “Beautipolite” Kappas can blend into the color of nature I wish I was like that, easily and unconsciously
Take a sharp KATANA and One stroke Divide down the justice and evil of the classroom When it’s all over, we’re all friends No, I guess that’s just a convenient daydream
ALL DAY LONG FOCUS WILDLY UPS AND DOWNS FIVE MILES OF FOGS IN A MAZE GAZES SPINNING AROUND RELY ON MY FIVE SENSES AND INTUITION TO GET OUT OF HERE
This way, that way, No not that way! Why do I know? Teachers never taught me that With the intention of interruption, The Bell started raining down on me
My classroom, 2-A Filled with KEDAMONO Monsters It wasn’t you guys who were wrong The topics of conversations and the way they get you cracking up It was all me that was way off, strange, Yes?
Looks and spirits, I’m “Beautipolite” Don’t have to be an eight-headed serpent to be Yamatano-Beauty(?) But still, I wanted to have a kind heart
Take a sharp KATANA and One stroke Divide down the justice and evil of the classroom when it’s all over, we’re all friends No, that’s just a convenient daydream
But I guess, I feel fine to love myself The weird me, as myself
“From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books.” (原文)
“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. “(原文)