Retrospect 歌词

	作词 : 佘晨扬
	作曲 : Psychopress
	Staring at the ceiling, awaiting the known unknown.
	Too bleak.
	Living in false solace, the promise's wasted, somewhat tarnished.
	Creak. Tick-tock.
	Countdown to the mission, is this a glimpse of apocalyptic visions?
	Cognitive dissonance draws our nonchalance; further, decadence.
	Though encouraged to impart the honest conclusion, their derision is always an acute confusion.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ‘no reserve, retreat nor regret’?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul's full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	Fading to obscurity is the even-handed justice.
	We've been drifting to and fro, lost in the ebb and flow.
	From segment steadily to fragment, or leave the helm, enterin' the peaceful realm.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ‘no reserve, retreat nor regret’?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul's full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	The perfect tranquility should always derive from within.
	So be it.

	zuo ci : she chen yang
	zuo qu : Psychopress
	Staring at the ceiling, awaiting the known unknown.
	Too bleak.
	Living in false solace, the promise' s wasted, somewhat tarnished.
	Creak. Ticktock.
	Countdown to the mission, is this a glimpse of apocalyptic visions?
	Cognitive dissonance draws our nonchalance further, decadence.
	Though encouraged to impart the honest conclusion, their derision is always an acute confusion.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ' no reserve, retreat nor regret'?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul' s full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	Fading to obscurity is the evenhanded justice.
	We' ve been drifting to and fro, lost in the ebb and flow.
	From segment steadily to fragment, or leave the helm, enterin' the peaceful realm.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ' no reserve, retreat nor regret'?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul' s full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	The perfect tranquility should always derive from within.
	So be it.

	zuò cí : shé chén yáng
	zuò qǔ : Psychopress
	Staring at the ceiling, awaiting the known unknown.
	Too bleak.
	Living in false solace, the promise' s wasted, somewhat tarnished.
	Creak. Ticktock.
	Countdown to the mission, is this a glimpse of apocalyptic visions?
	Cognitive dissonance draws our nonchalance further, decadence.
	Though encouraged to impart the honest conclusion, their derision is always an acute confusion.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ' no reserve, retreat nor regret'?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul' s full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	Fading to obscurity is the evenhanded justice.
	We' ve been drifting to and fro, lost in the ebb and flow.
	From segment steadily to fragment, or leave the helm, enterin' the peaceful realm.
	When the time comes, dare I say, ' no reserve, retreat nor regret'?
	Feeling no warmth, cold as clay, my soul' s full of dismay.
	Constant streams come down and wet that solitary silhouette.
	A sluggish life would preset a sufficient end yet.
	The perfect tranquility should always derive from within.
	So be it.

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