空白
A tight micro house groove with crisp digital drums and syncopated hi-hats lays the foundation at 140 bpm. Gritty pub rock guitars add edge on the offbeats, while a glockenspiel delivers sparkling arpeggios. The low-pitched vocal glides over minimalist bass and snappy claps, fusing genres seamlessly.
空白
A tight micro house groove with crisp digital drums and syncopated hi-hats lays the foundation at 140 bpm. Gritty pub rock guitars add edge on the offbeats, while a glockenspiel delivers sparkling arpeggios. The low-pitched vocal glides over minimalist bass and snappy claps, fusing genres seamlessly.
Lyrics
青空に響く 乾いたタイヤの音
一瞬で消えた 小さな命
追いかけた店長が青ざめる
静かな街角 誰もが目を背けた
父は信じていた娘の 無実を叫んで
スーパーの店長は 責められ立ち尽くす
繰り返す「申し訳ございません」 誰も聞かない
からっぽ、からっぽ
裁き合う 正義の刃
からっぽ、からっぽ
加害者と被害者 境界は滲んでいく
からっぽ、からっぽ
テレビやSNSが映し出す 醜い感情
正しさの押し付けは、他人の心を壊す
匿名という名の悪意なき暴力
石を投げる群衆に 理由などいらない
謝罪の涙さえ 許されぬ世界で
罪を背負いながら また一人消える
独りになった父は 娘の部屋の隅で
不器用な絵筆を 取り上げてみる
似ても似つかない イルカの雲の形
からっぽ、からっぽ
裁き合う 正義の刃
からっぽ、からっぽ
加害者と被害者 境界は滲んでいく
からっぽ、からっぽ
それでも時間は 止まらないから
ただ一つ 生きている証を探す
泣いてほしい演出は冷める。
何気ない優しさや、言葉が心を潤おす
不器用な愛だけが 降り注ぐ
乾いた大地を 静かに照らす
「万引き」だったのか 「無実」だったのか
もう、どうでもいいのかもしれない
残された日々に 問う「生きる」意味を空白の中 ただ前を見つめる
lyric© 2025 空白人間
The dry sound of tires echoes in the blue sky,
A small life vanished in an instant.
The store manager, who gave chase, turns pale.
On the quiet street corner, everyone averted their eyes.
The father shouts, believing in his daughter's innocence,
The supermarket manager, blamed, stands stock still,
Repeating, "I am deeply sorry," unheard by anyone.
Empty, empty,
The blades of justice, judging one another.
Empty, empty,
The boundary between perpetrator and victim blurs.
Empty, empty,
The ugly emotions reflected by TV and SNS.
The imposition of 'correctness' shatters the hearts of others.
Anonymous malice, a violence without intent,
The crowd throwing stones needs no reason.
In a world where even tears of apology are unforgivable,
Bearing the weight of sin, another person disappears.
The father, left alone, in the corner of his daughter's room,
Picks up a clumsy paintbrush.
The shape of a dolphin cloud, barely resembling anything.
Empty, empty,
The blades of justice, judging one another.
Empty, empty,
The boundary between perpetrator and victim blurs.
Empty, empty,
Yet, time will not stand still,
Searching for the only proof of being alive.
The performance of demanding tears falls flat.
Small kindnesses, simple words, are what soothe the heart.
Only awkward love pours down,
Quietly illuminating the parched earth.
Was it "shoplifting" or "innocence"?
Perhaps it no longer matters.
In the remaining days, he asks, "What is the meaning of life?"
In the void, he simply gazes forward.