Composed by Cocoro Mashima
At the harbor at night, the man was blowing in the wind.
I walked up to this point while tracing my memory.
The cold wind seems to ring the stars.
The black sea is rustling and swelling.
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Composed by Cocoro Mashima
At the harbor at night, the man was blowing in the wind.
I walked up to this point while tracing my memory.
The cold wind seems to ring the stars.
The black sea is rustling and swelling.