beep
Thinking of your heart is like an insomnia port.
Light up the tenderness of loneliness and midnight injury.
You are a dream, you laugh and cry, and you will never repeat it.
It's cold every night, and I'm the only one in my dream.
Loving your heart is like a critical maple red.
Knowing that sadness is still floating without regret.
I am a fragile temptation, and I can't afford it at midnight.
A hazy face and heart will go back.
I would rather endure pain than talk about my injury.
There are too many painful processes, right and wrong struggles.
Love you and love me.
Hurt you and hurt me.
That's fate.
Missing you is a kind of loneliness.
No amount of midnight wine is enough for one heart.
Want to tear the wound again and again.
Ruthless years are still my nostalgia.
I would rather endure pain than talk about my injury.
There are too many painful processes, right and wrong struggles.
Love you and love me.
Hurt you and hurt me.
That's fate.
Missing you is a kind of loneliness.
No amount of midnight wine is enough for one heart.
Want to tear the wound again and again.
Ruthless years are still my nostalgia.
Missing you is a kind of loneliness.
No amount of midnight wine is enough for one heart.
Want to tear the wound again and again.
Ruthless years are still my nostalgia.
Missing you is a kind of loneliness.
No amount of midnight wine is enough for one heart.
Want to tear the wound again and again.
Ruthless years are still my nostalgia.