A song,
Two people play,
Who is leaving midway?
Can anyone tell why?
He is the proud man of heaven,
He was originally a knight-errant,
Holding hands is difficult,
The reason for shrinking?
Looking with smile,
No?
No,
Just afraid,
The moon is bright,
He is cold.
The sword is not unsheathed, who is hurt?
Sleepy, eyes closed.
In the end, it's just my long-cherished wish to see you.
You are so heartless, the cold lake water,
Stained white clothes,
Wry smile...
Astringent feeling,
When I owe you all my life