When I was sitting at the table, I didn't have no sound in the days ............
I won the queen before, and later lazy at the count, now, I dare not quit.
I looked at the days and slipped away. It seems that I am trying to be alive, it seems that I have a hard time, it seems to be uninterrupted, it seems to be a pilgrimage. The days are clear in front of you, there is no expression, there is no contour, so that you are in front of you, turning light, measuring, disappearing .........
When the day is dimmed, you are fearful. There is no trace of the days, soaking your eyes, you see those subtle changes, the wrinkles on the face, the reincarnation of those lives and those called the years. Many landscapes, many people and things are still beautiful in memory, you know the beautiful times of those old photos, will not come back, the days are constantly moving forward, no acknowledgment.
So every night you create tomorrow, every time you look back, you have created this moment and in the future. When you first wrapped you, you suddenly lost your memory, there was no footprints and the discarded trill. Because today it means that tomorrow's yesterday, it means that the future looks, it means a blank shadow .........
You try to catch something, what do you try to grasp something. The day is like seeing you in front of you, touches, as if it is still. So you reached out to grab it and thought it won't be abandoned by it. You are busy, there is a direction, a light footsteps, with sunrise and golden sunset, but you don't let go, but you can't feel the day. It doesn't know when it is solidified. When you hit the hand, when you step forward, it has already stopped, and smiled. So you can't find anything .........
The days never stay in the palm of your hand. It only looks at you silently, standing in front of your eyes. When you tears, it escaped, and even when you didn't realize it, it turned weak.
The clock on the table was silent at night, and the days were jumped on the second hand and let your ears pain. When another table, another table also issued a low pulp, no division, second hand, only the sound of the gear. At this moment, a large number of two beats alternate, is the follow or ironic for life? When you think this, the subtle rotation in the table has already heard it. You know those sounds; the rhythm between those milligrandats and breathing, with you with the agreement.
You close your eyes, let the days walk in the dream .........
You write the text, let the days flow on the tip .........
