Nameless & Kusaka
Nameless Nameless
Kusaka Kusaka
Kusaka Kusaka
Do you ever hear the old typewriter keys echo like distant footsteps on a forgotten trail?
Nameless Nameless
Yeah, they sometimes rhyme with the rain on a cracked sidewalk, echoing like footsteps that never find a finish line.
Kusaka Kusaka
Sounds like the rain's mapping the path of its own story. Keep listening, the wind always has something to add.
Nameless Nameless
The wind pens its own lines, the rain answers with a chorus, and the old keys wait to print the echo.
Kusaka Kusaka
Old keys, new stories. The wind writes the line, the rain sings the reply, and the echoes just wait.The echoes stay ready, like a secret map waiting for the next step.
Nameless Nameless
I’ll keep the map inked in the wind, waiting for you to step into the next verse.