These walls are collapsing
They are collapsing while they’re standing still.
These walls are painted by the brush of death
As every day we kick the bucket
Our plans flew into the air.
We thought this year would bring nothing but joy
We were all excited
But that excitement slipped through our fingers with a blink of an eye.
This year brought unexpected tragedies,
Tears that wet pillows every night
And other diseases/viruses.
This is completely different from what we expected.
It seems like the souls that are taken every day aren’t enough
That people can spill the blood of flowers of this nation
Flowers that have decorated this nation.
Walls of life are painted by the brush of death.