A finger from the war, could not write the earthly Fenghua, hidden down the years, the story of string, broken and continued, but I still don't know, how to use the attitude to keep it a miss. My messy pace, through the gap in time, all trajectories restored to the original, but the scenery is so definitely, Ren, desolate and lonely beat the mood, I know, you all do not it like water woman, tears and joy can only reveal all, made a the real Xingqingzhongren.
Sleepless window, still the night is dark, thick ink colors, with a touch of serenity, also has a long lonely. The cold atmosphere, I am so decadent heartache, destruction of the first picture, smiling with tears watered all good time, a don't like human landscape change, the memorial withering youth, now and ever, never let the experience of time never returned.
I'm looking for and direction, perhaps accidentaly across, so much in life, there are dark fate. The different sky, the beautiful time to cover up our fragile, and the dedication of the idea, only in sleep, will quietly to miss the past. Another season, like a meteor flash fall short, emotional touch of hope light, has given her a pen and a spiritual wealth.
Never, can avoid the intersection of life, we Is it right? Also should be accustomed to? A turn, a Beckoning, callow youth has fallen, in the edge of love toward the dawn, a void, a phantom love, in a person's world, each or deep or shallow traces, let the soul of love.
The corner years ago, all of downtown has remained in the dream, looking back, fuzzy story, not with the reality of overlap in some people, some things, so in the landscape change, become a time traveler. But, every night, when those familiar with again emerged from the mind, in the love of the night, or let the bleak Xinghai, provoked his earthly wandering.
When the fingers touch, amazing time, a song by song que, how many back, so many exclamatory. Floating action, let us forget the youth of color, also forget love like. Some untraceable memories, the retreat of the old world, in the pauses stranded moment, grief at separation and joy in Union over the past. Yesterday, last thing, overnight, also at a world, a flower to dust, finally, we have forgotten their true.
A path to the eternal Road, be extended indefinitely, scattered in the pen yesterday, has become the eternal separation. Again and again I imagined spring, in the dream when, Nagqu has become dark movement in the heart sweet thoughts into the distance, graffiti the ink, in a quiet moonlight, feel the slightest thorough sorrow.
Lonely as incense, at the moment, loneliness and poverty is so intoxicating. Looking at the deep night sky, still have tenderness surrounds the dust of the secular world, bright blue, I see the flowers open in the desolate street. But, with the old dusk time, small he could not handle the affair, more can't suppress writing on paper.
A curtain down, through the time of the wall, floating in the precipitation from the memory, a rich and mellow alone, instead of the end of the story. We, so quietly still keep the light of the oath, but not hold life gradually fallen, perhaps, we how many lifetimes are not quit of a gentle, will let his tireless removed reincarnation in the world, and perhaps because of this, there is a demand and not incomplete, will let this life will never find the loss of reason, will be to find a foothold in the corner.
Paper, a chapter of our story has a chapter, but the flying game red, become my eternal regret. I closed my eyes unwillingly, you disappeared without a trace back, but let yesterday become more clear, this open the memory, I never run aground in the thoughts of you.