The Story of the Origin of Dreams in the Sky

Come on, keep writing! The street is long and the fireworks are numerous. You turn on the light to look back. The short pavilion is short, the world is rolling, I sigh again. Who finally broke the string, made the flowers fall on the shoulders, and became confused How many beauties are haggard, how many lovesicknesses are broken, only blood stains the ink fragrance and cries litter the grave. The boundless earth can be destroyed with one sword, and where is the bustling music and singing. Leaning against the clouds, thousands of pots hide my loneliness, even if others laugh at me in vain. Let him be pure and turbid in everything, and he will be reincarnated for your smile. I send you a song, no matter who gathers or disperses at the end of the song. Who burns the smoke away and scatters the ties of vertical and horizontal. Listen to the strings break, cut off those three thousand obsessions. The falling flowers are obliterated, and the wind is obliterated. If the flower is pity, it falls on whose fingertips. There are trees in the mountains, and the trees have branches. My heart is happy for you, but you don't know it. Whoever forgets each other will forget first. The overthrowing country is the homeland. Ling Ling refused to play, and the shadows were startling. In the past, there were high-rise buildings where people could sing in the morning and sing in the evening, and there were dancing sleeves on them that would captivate the city and the country. (Well, I used sentences found elsewhere to make up the word count.)

Because I am a newbie, the content is not very exciting. I will make complete revisions as I improve in the future.