There is a certain moment to think of a long time ago, and it's familiar with it.
In this unfamiliar city, there is no in a deep street of people who are familiar with. The empty life is a kind of mood, and it is no longer able to pack it. It is a premonition. It is a kind of show that there is no face to see us. I finally didn't expect to meet more than a deep thoughts in the vast sea, and there were too deep. It is also true. It is true and illusory. I have never understood the mystery. If we live in the hustle and bustle, we must only burn themselves. Gathering life and ideals always lanes, there is a bit of pain, and I can't say that I will sleep too long. I want to put the flying edge. It is too long to make a water. It is not all the love. It will come back to the dust. I will come back to a reincarnation so our love The loopback reciprocating the loneliness of the home, when you come to your figure, come back to your figure, and there are more yourself. Silk, can I still have a few dreams, come back to a few autumn, I have begun to get tired of this I don't know if we will be asgens that we will sing in a song in the song, and there is a window of a road. There is a window of a window. The dry clean nets that have been discarded in meditation have only about the people who have the past, and we are destined to lose in the eternal reincarnation. Maybe I will realize this - like a dream dust
