Lyric

The goldfish bowl of the garden shining in azure blue. A long time ago it is the brazier which was used to take the warmth.
It which nothing made business was the times of the Showa that stoves spread as a goldfish bowl as seen in a garden.
The back figure of the young brother looking in the blue bowl totally floats like a illustration of the picture book.
The older sister who paints cheeks with the white powder of the kind of the marvel-of-Peru, and plays a bride.
The naughty younger brother who clings to the railroad tie of the track.
It will be that good old master hands played an active part in the baseball broadcast of new TV which I watched while eating stylish curry and rice.
I am pulled back in the present age of the sum to give it an order to start while the memory of the author who spent the times of the good old Showa full of such a nostalgia appears in sequence and sing a current state of mind in a loud voice as a heart design not to fade with the yearning to the parents for younger days warmly.
It is the work of the gem becoming the sense such as the story rather than a song.
I want you fully to thoroughly enjoy the unique world full of the gentleness of Yaka which it is a singer-songwriter, and is a novelist.