Take a look at the circular square ahead
Going home is just sad
Sleek badge Wei Liang
No one makes a sound, the missing north
The song written by Evil under the moonlight of Victoria
The ending of youth, the intersection of palms
Who is not present in the melting ideal?
Clock hanging on the wall, the illusion of destruction
The contradiction leads to the alley across the street from him, striving to become a perfect piece of music
That unprosecutable sin of manipulation is like
I wrote a gorgeous and cruel movement
I will write this thought with my own hand
The light of morning light blows away a trace of sadness
Black ink burns incense