群青

Like the morning after a noisy night: Shibuya has not yet cooled down from the lights and bars, and pale light is already pouring into the streets. Yawning, fatigue, emptiness - and suddenly a quiet but genuine voice breaks through from within, one that has long been hidden behind masks. Everything around seems too ordinary, but it is in this “ordinariness” that one's own, chosen color appears for the first time.

This is a song about how scary it is to love what is yours, to insist on your own way, and to move forward when your eyelids are heavy and comparisons with others weigh you down. It's about how pain and doubt become tools rather than burdens. And about how every stroke on the canvas - even crooked and shaky - turns into a weapon and a light that you have built for yourself.