Standing in the dangerous building, the wind is blowing softly, looking at the spring sorrow, the sky is gloomy. In the grass-colored smoke and the lingering light, I am speechless. Who will be silent?
I plan to get drunk with the madness, and sing to the wine, and the strong music is still tasteless. The belt becomes wider and wider, but I don't regret it anymore. I feel haggard because of the beauty.
Conception: