Book
我还是没怎么上心
I still didn't really take it seriously
一不小心玩大了
Carelessly took things too far
好吧下次注意
Fine, I'll be more careful next time
那就这样吧
Let's leave it at that
总是会怀疑自己
I'm always doubting myself
身边的人总要害我
The people around me are always out to hurt me
糟糕的回忆不断想起
Bad memories keep coming back
脑海里的声音不停打架
The voices in my head keep fighting
逐渐的我没有了信心
Little by little, I lost my confidence
我生怕我会忘了我自己
I'm terrified I'll forget who I am
走上陌生的路
Heading down an unfamiliar road
丛生到死都是一个人
Alone from birth to death
所以我看的很清楚
So I see it very clearly
否则你会一直哭
Or you'll never stop crying
我一直在读
And I keep reading
我一直在读
And I keep reading
我一直在读
And I keep reading
我一直在读
And I keep reading
我一直在读
And I keep reading
Notes
A casual dismissal of a mistake gives way to memory, self-doubt and the fear of losing oneself. The final book image leaves life unfinished and the work of reading it ongoing.
没怎么上心
上心 is to put one’s attention and concern into something. 没怎么 weakens the admission—“not particularly”—before the next line says things went too far. The understatement makes the opening sound like somebody trying to contain the significance of a mistake, while the rest of the verse describes how hard that containment has become.
玩大了
玩大了 is an idiom for taking an activity or situation too far until its stakes become serious. The literal idea of “playing big” makes the casual promise to be careful next time sound inadequate. That throwaway opening is followed by the memories and self-doubt it cannot simply dismiss.
侥幸
侥幸 is luck one cannot count on, often the hope of escaping an adverse consequence. After “I took things too far” and the casual promise to be careful next time, it carries more self-reproach than a simple wish for good fortune.
信仰
The passage moves from lacking 信仰, a faith or larger belief, to 怀疑自己, doubting oneself, and finally losing 信心, confidence. The shared language of belief narrows from a worldview to the ability to trust oneself. That progression gives the fear of forgetting who one is a precise place in the verse.
身边的人
身边 literally locates people beside the speaker, so the perceived danger comes from proximity rather than a distant enemy. The next lines move still closer, into memory and an inner argument. The passage narrows the space in which trust might survive: from surrounding company to the mind, then to confidence in oneself.
不停打架
打架 gives thoughts a bodily action: the voices fight one another. The following loss of confidence makes that internal conflict costly rather than merely noisy. It is vivid language for an argument that will not settle. The ordinary verb makes private indecision feel like an exhausting physical struggle.
忘了我自己
生怕 is a strong fear that something might happen, and the repeated 我 gives the line an intimate circularity: I fear I may forget myself. After memories that will not go away, forgetting is paradoxically the danger too. The speaker cannot choose which parts of experience stay present, or rely on them to hold a stable identity.
尽量不要去在乎
尽量 means as much as one can manage. That qualifier makes the instruction less absolute than the album’s many “I don’t care” declarations: not caring has become an effort, and perhaps an incomplete one. The promised alternative is endless crying. The sentence frames emotional distance as something attempted under pressure.
人生是一本书
The image casts the speaker as a reader of life. After mistakes, returning memories and an unfamiliar road, its meaning still has to be worked out as it unfolds. 一直, “continuously,” in the next line matters: he keeps reading. The ending offers persistence without pretending the book has become easy to understand.
Independent, AI-assisted English translation. Not artist-authorized. Sources: Genius · original lyric transcript.