I'm a thief.
Various kinds of thieves have existed throughout history, but I'm a bit different from those guys.
I don't steal money. I also have zero interest in things like antique jewels or valuable works of arts.
I'm a thief who steals sounds.


The theme of Thought Crime is plagiarized from George Orwell's novel, "1984." Then, the moment it's declared to be plagiarized, I change its form to that of an 'homage.' The line between plagiarism and paying homage to something seems ambiguous, and the truth is that that line doesn't actually exist at all. This holds true even when the roles are reversed. A homage holds a great risk of becoming plagiarism.
The lyrics to this song pay homage to Ozaki Hosai's haiku and his final years of life.
Surely, it can also be said that this is plagiarism.


ヨルシカ - 思想犯
Yorushika – Thought Crime

Lyrics, composition, arrangement: n-buna
Vocal: suis

Yorushika 3rd Full Album
"Plagiarism" released on July 29, 2020 (Wed)

Including songs
01. Confessions of a Music Thief (音楽泥棒の自白)
02. Daytime Thief (昼鳶)
03. Prostitution (春ひさぎ)
04. Compulsive Bomber (爆弾魔)
05. Adolescent, burglar (青年期、空き巣)
06. Replicant (レプリカント)
07. Huaren Bureau (花人局)
08. Red Summer, Music Thief (朱夏期、音楽泥棒)
09. Plagiarism (盗作)
10. Thought Crime (思想犯)
11. Escape (逃亡)
12. Childhood, in memory (幼年期、思い出の中)
13. Night Journey (夜行)
14. Ghost In A Flower ( 花に亡霊)

"Plagiarism" special site
https://sp.universal-music.co.jp/yoru ...

Downloading, streaming, etc.
https://umj.lnk.to/l2sBc

Official Site
http://yorushika.com/

Twitter
  / nbuna_staff  

Instagram
  / yorushika_o.  .


■ MV Credit
Director: Rabbit MACHINE
Animator: No.1Ø / KONATSURUKA / Yurisa Ueda(SWEAT) / suiko


■Lyrics
You, who are so kind to others, could never understand this heart of mine.
I enjoy cursing people; that used to be why I wrote songs.
I had dreamt of being featured in the morning news, someday;
for that reason, I sharpen my knife.

The sound of glass being smashed, the act of ripping apart some kind of paper, the setting sun after a farewell –
surely, even you understand that they're beautiful, right?

The crows' song is dyed a deep red,
and this loneliness, too, turns into sound.
In the last remaining traces of the dusk in my memory,
you stand on your tiptoes; the clouds burn red, and the word "goodbye" slips right off my tongue.

I want to be acknowledged, I want to love–
are these what they call "dreams?"
Even if I do nothing to achieve them, let them come true. Hurry up and gratify me.
Society, which is so kind to others, could never understand this envy.
I'm always looking for an opportunity to hit someone.

Hitting a streetlight with a beer bottle, the sound of a guitar breaking after being thrown;
all these irreparable regrets are beautiful— That said, even I understand! And yet.....

I'm struck by a rain of words,
and winter tumbles down on me even as I hold autumn dearly in my arms.
From behind the mountain in spring, one more breath of smoke drifts upwards—
and the summer breeze slips across my cheek.

You, who are so kind to others, could never understand this loneliness of mine.
I don't want to die, but I can't go on living; that's why I write songs.
I think disparagement, disappointment, and disgust all have their eyes on me.
That's why I write songs that hurt people.
That's why I write vapid songs such as this.

I want to swallow your words.
I don't even have anything to put them in, so I use both my hands.
Before i know it my throat will get wet,
And while I wait for that time to come…

The crows' song is dyed a deep red,
and I plead for this loneliness to transform into song.
The word "goodbye" dyes you a deep red,
and, now, I wait for the night.
The words "see you tomorrow" slips off my tongue.