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I stand denied and objectified on middle ground. Unwelcoming faces on each end of the road leering back at me. I'm trying to find where I belong. Though I feel lost. Abandoned, at the median of two spectrums. One blatantly black While the other blatantly white. Alienated. The place where I belong. Beyond the distant, unbearable things of which I have come to regress, there is nothing such. I have no home in either one.
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"I let you down, I led you on. I never thought I'd be here without you. Don't let me drown inside your arms. Bad thoughts inside my mind when the darkness comes. You're my light baby. My light, baby. My light when it's dark....
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Cause I know right now that I lost it. It's way too late to save our souls, baby. It's way too late we're on our own. Baby on my own. I've made mistakes, I did you wrong baby. It's way too late to save my soul."
— the weeknd ; too late —
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「Giri [romaji] : a debt or an obligation. A complex concept of duty unique to the Japanese culture. Indicating both the gratitude one had for an act of kindness and the obligation to carry out revenge. This is how the yakuza distinguish themselves from other mafias. 」
