Forty years of drama,
Saving people is too short, dying is too stiff.
I had to squeeze half of my soul into oil paint,
Put on the wooden tire and wait for those who come later——
To speak for the unshed tears.
There are seven faces at the bottom of the box,
It's the love debt owed in the previous life, the general that has not been ordered,
A lie dangling on the moral scale.
If you put it on,
Just take over my debt,
Play my part
Don't dare to tell the whole story.
Purpose: Waiting for a destined person to inherit my mantle