Hirunone

"Hirunone" (Daytime Sleep) is a song that depicts the "roots" that continue to grow steadily within a body that cannot move.

A white room, immobile legs, an afternoon unable to go outside.

Yet thoughts extend beyond the window, and words spread like the veins of a leaf.

This song sings not of running or visible progress, but of quiet, continuous growth within.

"There are things you can see because you can't move. The view deepens because you can't touch."

As these words suggest, physical limitations are not merely a lack, but give rise to different sensations, different intellect, and different ways of life.

With a complexity that cannot be contained by the single word "disability,"
Hirunone survives today not by speed, but by intensity.

The roots that seem to be sleeping outside are connecting, multiplying, and pushing forward tomorrow in unseen places.

Though it seems still, it is moving inside.

Though it seems silent, words are reproducing.

"Hirunone" is a song that portrays slowness and quietness not as "defeat," but as a form of life that continues to bloom in unseen places.
Even if you can't run, you can go with your roots.
This song sings that quiet truth straight in the light of 2027.