Boşver beni, mühim değilim
Bu O'nun hikayesi
Çok beyazdı, kir tutardı
Ömrü kelebek kadardı
Mektupları şişedeyken
Bir de bakmış deniz yokmuş
Tek başına dans ederken
Mutsuzluktan sarhoşmuş

Daha onyedi, onyedi, onyedi, onyediymiş
Daha onyedi, onyedi, onyedi, onyediymiş
Daha onyedi, onyedi, onyedi, onyediymiş

Oyundan kalkmak isterken
Kağıtlar dağıtılmış
Bu hava boşluğunda
Artık herşey satılıkmış
Trafikte akmayan
Hep onun şeridiyken
Söylediği son şarkı
"Elveda Zalim Dünya"ymış

Forget me, I'm not important.
This is her story.
She was so white, she'd catch dirt easily.
Her life was as long as a butterfly's.
While the letters were put into bottles,
She looked to find there was no ocean to send them.
While she was dancing on her own,
She was intoxicated with her sadness.

Only seventeen, seventeen, seventeen, she was only seventeen.
Only seventeen, seventeen, seventeen, she was only seventeen.
Only seventeen, seventeen, seventeen, she was only seventeen.

When she wanted to leave the game,
The papers scattered all around.
In this emptiness,
By this time, everything was for sale.
The traffic was jammed,
But always in her lane.
The last song she had supposedly sung,
Was, "Farewell Cruel World."