Yiyi chaos wind blowing, fine water shallow stream, youth is not long in, looking back tales of sorrow.
Encounter, like swirling petals, do not know when there will be wind office furniture
, I do not know when it will fall, erratic somewhere waiting for their fate.
Horizon, dotted with a few vaguely dim stars, just as I now feel like dim.
Hovering in the silence of the night, counting Cheng pulls, looks into the distance as the mixing of the King, distant, broad, with a little fuzzy.
I met you, that's probably just a coincidence.
Although at this moment, the memory has already blurred a little, but then the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze. Vaguely in my heart never forget.
At that time, no stunning Allure pour country, there is no story broke our hearts, yes, but a silly affair, a faint feeling, a shallow memories.
I know that time is not whom to stay, and you may also never thought for me to stay a short one second.
Perhaps, I should not be sad, you are the most beautiful scenery in my mind, but not exclusively belong to my landscape, I have a share memories, sometimes recall can feel bursts of warm, maybe this is a gift of God.
Standing at the crossroads once again entangled before, I knew that I would be confused because different way, all the final outcome will only farther apart.
Perhaps sink in this complex society, I look up to life, culturelle
not what you want to get, and you longing for life, or maybe not, I can do, perfect, perhaps never appeared.
Is one of the stars of the night sky, no, look, as if invisible little bright future in general.
Too many wandering, too hesitant, willing to give themselves a desired outcome, but, it seems, the results always just use a sad ending to an end.
Smile, white autumn day, is indeed filled with a lot of melancholy, like the wind chill, not wanton invasion of warm hearts.
Perhaps all started, thought it was only by chance of fate, the outcome, only to find that it is really just teasing fate of Bale.
Miserable? Perhaps not, the starting point of the story, the end of the story might not important, with the process, with experience, with the memories, it seems that is the meaning of a life.
You search for your world and I would silently change themselves, perhaps, hair transplant
meet again, when you are still you, I'm still me, perhaps, no goodbye, you is not my idea of you, and I, have long been forgotten in your mind.
If the snow out? Since I can not give you warm, then I just silently bless you find the warm embrace you deserve.
Youth no longer, to me, is just now facing life among themselves rickets.
Forget that you, or maybe, just forget the memories of Bale.
Lights flicker, streaks read,
Ends of the earth, how to forget.