The flow of light bleached with green silk,
Twilight face along with the sideburns dust.
I can't help but remember the past,
and now it's all gone with the wind.
Only that withered in the midnight dream at the paragraph fragment,
still stubbornly wandering,
not willing to drift away.
That piece of residual comb strokes a thousand strands of the past,
òò for a long time unwilling to disperse the knot of the heart.
The knot is cohesive with the vicissitudes of the years,
the dust of the past, the bumps and bruises,
the heart of the past is broken.
The voice that lurks in the depths of the heart,
such as the devil's voice like a tearing roar.
The struggle of the years of bondage,
Trying to touch the dust of the past that will soon dissipate,
Pulling out the heart of the heartbreak,
The gully of the wounds, vaguely residual blood of the heart of the wet stains,
Red as the beginning, as if the call.
That point of rouge poignantly tells,
once the body of the past.
A wisp of silk, feeling the sadness of the fallen flowers, the system will be gone,
Drinking the lonely pain, alone broken heart broken.
The first time I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, I saw the movie, and I saw the movie.
The first thing you need to do is to look at the past and see if you can find a way to get to the bottom of the problem.
The only thing I can think of is that I've been in the same boat for a long time,
and that's why I've been in the same boat for a long time.
But we are strangers to each other in this life,
who knows the pain is like a cone?
They're not the only ones who can't get it right.