Sunshine is dim at a little bit
Dream slowly dissipated
Love like a red wounded rose
Don't be in the clothes
Bird sing the leaves in the spring in the autumn floating in the wind, no sound, homozyg, woven a giant network
Lonely is a knife on the top of blood
The song has not heard the leaves, and the earth is full of earth, and there is no color without a trace rose.
I haven't been too long, I have been too long.
