It's supposed to be a ridiculous secret chained down deep underground, but now it's dancing stark-naked in front of the Shibuya station.

"Let me join the group!" "Let me join the talk!" As the telephone game is played generation after generation, the message is passed here, there, and everywhere,

Everyone is hogging gluttonously in the most unsightly manner the gossips and news already smeared with others' saliva. They slowly become ADDICTED to sobbing, and then become bound by some rotten gossip.

I'll lick some sweet sweet chocolate, some real, some fake. Ah... Who cares if it's real or not? It's delicious and filled with additives. Flimsy sweet talks are too fake; juicy rumors are more real to me. You think so, too? Of course I also think so. How simple-minded, huh?

Inside my head, my self-interest and envy are boiling and swirling.

When an aluminum wrapper is unfolded, people will surely crowd there as expected. Behind the scenes, someone will secretly be pouring black rain. I'll just answer to the majority's needs, and sell to them what they all want. You do that, too? Of course I also do that.