This song reaffirms my belief that 有村竜太郎 (Plastic Tree's vocalist) can make anything work. Can mold anything into whatever he wants it to be. Here is a song about tetris and flowers born from ice and taking a certain pleasure in loss. Well, that's how I take it; you can decide for yourself.
Lyrics:
Song: テトリス (Tetris)
Artist: Plastic Tree
The screen, Tetris, anxiety comes falling down. Parts, scattered, ah, I just can’t clear it.
Deliberation, suffocation, seven dazzling colors. Pessimism as a real-world save...
Sheet music, adjusting strings, I hit the tuning fork. Isolation, melody, resonating together…
Lyricism, 7th, with a vague code…frigid, mannequin, pupil reaction.
If I look at love, you’re a dream. If I think on love, you’re the heart.
If I play love, you’re the piano. If I’m mad from love, who are you?
If I clothe myself in love, you’re a lie. If I curse love, you’re a poison.
If I question love, who’s it for? Huh?
After image, backlight halation. Why won’t anything show up?
Tears, tears, spill out. Bloom bitingly cold, freesia.
Reverberation, angels, hallelujah. Take it all the way until the boiling point.
Cry, cry, tear it up. Scatter softly, freesia.
Puzzle, failure, strewn about boredom. Descent, encouragement, degeneration theory all of a sudden.
Rejection, mosaic, seven flickering colors. Dizziness, brutality, a canary singing out.
Memory, two dimensions, even lines are frail. Sobs, sentimentality, working into a frenzy…
Acceleration, 9th, with whatever code fits…anesthesia, clarity, conditioned reflex.
If I make love come down, you’re the rain. If I compose love, you’re the song.
If I laugh at love, you’re the clown. If I’m lost on love, where are you?
If I drop love, you’re a snare. If I peer into love, you’re an abyss.
If I collect love, who’s it for? Huh?
Regrets, delusions, aberration. In the bruises I always hid…
Tears, tears, spill out. Bloom bitingly cold, freesia.
Lingering dream, glimmer, Illumina. We must be afraid to be alone.
Cry, cry, tear it up. Scatter softly, freesia.
I shelter one bud that’s overflowing with passion.
On the cold, miserable edge of death, it disappears in my recollections.
Tick tock tick tock, the spinning needle…
Off and on, mumbles to myself…
Swish swish, the dry wind…
Lalili lulala, incoherence…
Peace.
Tears, tears, spill out. Bloom bitingly cold, freesia.
Reverberation, angels, hallelujah. Take it all the way until the boiling point.
Cry, cry, tear it up. Scatter softly, freesia.
Scatter, freesia. Scatter, freesia.
Scatter, freesia. Scatter, freesia.
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