After you die
I don't celebrate birthdays anymore, because I feel that every time I turn another year old,
It will remind me how many times I left you
Leave that city and go to the far north you mentioned
Gambling, drinking, getting sick, working as a doctor, and occasionally getting into trouble
He calls himself a ghost doctor because he feels unworthy of being a human being.
And many years later,
Only then did I understand that the so-called puppet
What affects me is not fate, but my feelings for you
Every portion is like dancing on a blazing blade
No one appreciates him, he's just a buffoon
The skin is poisonous
The human heart hides its ghosts
I hope that my heart's blood can exchange for a drop of your loveless tears
After you leave, the beautiful spring will no longer exist, but the deep winter will remain.
I draw the earth as a prison and become your death row.
I hope you are too