Open your eyes and see the world. Dirty, dirty, breathing dusty air, the essence of human heart is uglier than them.
On April 7th, I was born.
The rose in my heart is dead.
I lived in the rose garden of that era, listening to the crying of the wind, the crying of the roses, and the cry of the dust: Why does the wind cry, why do the roses cry.
That day, you made a promise in my ear.
You asked me to close my eyes. You told me a good story about the stars.
From that day on, there was no room for any sound in my world.
I only remember your good stories and your light voice.
From that day on, I only live to kill you.