A bird unaware of flight,
A sword unaware of blood –
That’s me. And I’m scared to fight,
My blade cannot slash, cannot cut.
I will say I am a cynic,
That I’m a great bore, cruel, petty.
And people are apt to believe it,
They see that my soul is empty.
I’ve never been charming and bright.
Whoever will understand me?
Oh, it is so easy to hide
That I was born a romantic.