Volume II Chapter I
Bosse-de-Nage
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Lyrics
A man walks briskly down the street
Distinguished by an innocent, yet
Wearily, anxiety
His head is tilted to one side
For an instant, a part of his
True eyes is gone
And his grip on what he's grasped
Falls
His hands are weak, fragile, and
Firm but shaky
And his legs quiver with
The fear inspired by fear
He reaches for his garment
From every person's face
Passing in anxiety
And passing through his soul
In trouble, however
He never knew himself
He lets them know
There is no inspiration
Or escape in this
Cannot be found