I continued to caress the piano, and for many days, I had the same dream. I dreamed of the strings of September and your blown ink. It suddenly occurred to me that I haven't thought of you for a long time.
When you played the song "Long Cry Song", your indifferent profile always made me feel like you were as clean as a person who has been dead for many years.
I still deliberately cut off the strings. Now, I will never see your helpless look.
What's more, personnel changes. If the string is broken, who will listen?