Tōmei Ningen Jūhachi-Gō (透明人間18号; Invisible Man #18) – RADWIMPS
By
[Romanized:]
Hareta sora no ao sa dake ja mohaya kabai kireha shinakute Kono mama de wa boro ga deru to kuroku somari iro o shimai kon da Saredo kuro ni mi o azukeru hodo no futokoro nado nakute Dochira ni seyo isagiyo sa ga motomerareru koto o shitta
Seija mo boku mo douyou ni terashite kureru no ga sukui da yo Taiyou ga terasuaite erandara kitto boku ni iro wa ataerarenai
Tada hitotsu o tsuranuku hito iku iro ni mo mamireru hito Sorezore nakenashi no tadashi sa o furishibotte iru noni boku wa Shiro to kuro no hazama de kyou mo migotona made no hai no iro Namida hitotsu koboshite mite mo iroha oshiete wa kure nai
Kenja mo sora mo bonjin mo sorezore no iro ni somaru naka Taiyou no hikari matotta kimi wa mushoku toumei ni kagayaiteita
Nani ni ni mo somaranu you ni nani ni demo tokeru you ni Kokoro to koe to no sukima ni hadaka de tatterareru you ni
Kurohatsu: shiro jaku donkou ni nori nanman kai me ka no satogaeri Sono michisugara norikon de kita kimi ni boku wa mitsukattanda Suruto hai no iro no boku o nagame kirei to ittanda Niji no iro o kakimazeru to onaji iro o shite iru to
Seija no koe ga kono boku no mimi ni mo kikoeru no wa sukui da yo Koe ga todoku aite eran dara kitto kimi to boku wa deaenu mama
Nani ni ni mo somaranu you ni iroiro kara nigeru you ni Kore ppocchino kono boku ni nani o erabe to iu no kai
Boku ni mo nareru kana Nani ka kirai to iu ni wa nani mo shiranai kara
Boku ni mo dekiru kana Kono inochi no aida ni subete no iro o te ni
I can’t hide it now in just the blue of the clear sky I tucked away the colour dyed black when I saw it fading But I had no pocket to tuck things dyed black into Regardless, I knew I should act like a man
Saints and I are similar; We both are shined upon to help others If someone else was chosen for the sun to shine on Surely the colour wouldn’t have been given to me
People who deal with only one thing, people who can deal with anything I, though struggling for every insignificant truth Am the colour that is beautiful until it turns to ash Even if you try to shed a tear, the colour won’t teach you a thing
Wise men, the sky, normal people The interior, dyed with each of their respective colours You, who put on the light of the sun, were shining colourlessly and transparently
So it couldn’t be dyed in anything, so it could dissolve in everything So that it could stand uncovered in the space between the heart and the voice
Arriving at white, from black, riding on the train I visited my parents for the thousandth time I boarded the train again along that road, and you saw me When you looked at me as the colour of ash, you said it was beautiful That it could fit in with the colours of the rainbow
The voice of a saint in my ears was a help If someone else was chosen for that voice to reach Surely you and I would never have met
So it couldn’t be dyed in anything, so I could run away from the colours What is chosen for this kind of me
I wonder if I’m used to it Saying I hate it, because I don’t understand it
I wonder if I could do it To put all the colours in this life in my hand