The world is thin, the world is thin, and human relations are evil. When the rain comes at dusk, the flowers fall easily. At dawn, the wind dries, and the traces of tears remain. When I want to write down my thoughts, I talk alone by leaning against the fence. It's difficult, difficult, difficult. People are different, today is not yesterday, the sick soul tastes like a rope on a swing; the sound of the horn is cold, the night is dark, I am afraid of being asked, I swallow my tears and pretend to be happy, hiding, hiding, hiding.
[Chaitoufeng·Tang Wan]