Percentage.

If time is limited, the truth is that

I want to hold you so much; I want to tell you everything.

If I keep it a secret, it’ll rotate in an infinite loop.
Even if I’ve dreamed to the point of giddiness, it’s just an illusion that ends inside me alone, after all.
(You won’t die from loneliness)
With my heart dancing for the eternity of the exchange,
I’m going around in circles. When I think of you, I feel scared, want to do it, want to break it down, get scared, feel pain.
(That’s reality)

Inside the future you’re looking at, if you look so closely,
You’ll just realize it so well you’ll want to break it down -
That you can’t hold a monopoly.

If time is limited, the truth is that
I want to hold you so much; I want to touch every bit of you.
Just looking from outside the frame, the truth is that
I can’t stand it; I hate that so much, but it can’t be helped.

Watch over you without crossing a single line?
(If you block it off, the pain will soften up)
Say the keyword and put it to an end?
(You can’t go back anymore)

If the concept of time disappears, I’d like to continue gazing at you.
That alone would be fine; I need no luxury.
I’m so unafraid that I can see even when the moon is behind the clouds.
It’s okay if it wanes, because it will grow again.

If I may spit out all of my heart, the truth is that
I want to hold you so much; I want to touch every bit of you.

The percentage within you that I occupy is probably going down, I suppose.
Even if it disappears someday, if you’re smiling, that’s enough for me.

(Origen de la traducción. Ya adoraba la canción, y, ahora, más. Esos dos últimos versos... ) 
Bueno, sí, va por alguien. Aunque sé que no... pasaría nada... si lo dijera a la cara... tengo miedo. Miedo a lo que pudiera pasar. Así que se me traba la lengua cuando lo intento, a pesar de pensarlo muchas, muchas veces. Es un poco absurdo, ¿verdad? así que, prefiero escribir. O que otros escriban por mi.