A familiar face
A kind of intoxicating leisure
In the space of no one and no feeling
Why in such a scene
Seeing your eyes
The tears accumulated by exhaustion
Pounding the limits of my bosom
Sinking in the teardrops of confusion
Seeing your sadness
Handling the growing rocks
The paths have hidden the vision
The paths have hidden the vision
We are in the middle of the road, the roads have hidden the sights. >Seeing your sorrowful pity
Touching the growing rocks
The paths have been hidden from sight
Spinning between the bewilderment of expressions
Wandering in the distance of dying
Rewinding between the unanswerable answers