The maple leaves of the residual red fall to the ground, when you are rooted in deep thoughts? Some past events, I can only use ink to make it colorful again, that year a candle flame, is the only lamp in the memories, full of a cup of wine, reflecting a round of bright moon in the night sky, turn the cup, the round moon broken and round, is not in the ridicule of the broken mirror will also have cracks?
Above the human body, day and night waiting for a deep love, is the end of the past a cup of old wine, although the flow, but has long lost the past rich. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots, and then you'll be able to get your hands on a new pair of shoes or boots. Under the dome of the sky, the red sun rises, dry overnight wine, the past is the past life, the sunrise has become this life.
The years that have passed can only be called days, and there will certainly be more possibilities in the future life. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it. This life is too short and too short, that moment is too long and too long, the heart has been fixed in place, built a city called the past, the city is locked up in the past hangover, the head of the city but shines with the sunrise of the light array, I obsessed in the past and the rest of the life, a cup of wine cleansing the non-returning people, a cup of wine shaking with the hope of the heart.
That's it! A glass of wine life, thousands of miles away from a door that has long been covered with cobwebs and dust, and the people around me, is the root of my most should be guarded. There are still landscapes in front of me, but never the world, and the past toast, and the rest of my life to celebrate, the more I walk more at ease. The beauty of the world will no longer exist, I am like that long-distance expeditionary force, the heart is firm, the expression is calm, in the middle of the war, fortunately I still have faith, accompanied by me to walk alone for the rest of my life. This cup of warmth where the soul resides has never given me such a peace of mind in thousands of years. Spirits into the throat, a melodious tune floated into the dream, a round of the moon and frost in the cup white condensation, I am alone to listen to the sound of the rain slipping, the past years more too late to greet, people come and go in the world of a few, who understand the moment of despondency. The past confidant has become a depression, fortunately, the rest of her life with me **** enjoy a world of fireworks. A parting is a red dust strangers, butterfly dance lightly fly through the sea, a cup of wine separated by a boundless river. From mutual help to forget each other in the rivers and lakes, that story and legend will never be recounted. Now, the hands of the glass has been emptied, I just want to ask a question, tomorrow we will experience the world of warmth and suffering, are you willing to accept the rest of my life? The past has become a guest, you are the support I want. We met in the cloud, in the thousands of mountains and thousands of water close.
The autumn wind is rustling, the red leaves are flying down, that a bright light, and see the bright moon is still, hold the hands of a cup of strong, toast to the past, full, and then to the rest of his life.