The old time can no longer write melodious songs,
A page of yellowed paper interspersed with 13 years of stories
Maybe I was not mature enough when I picked up the pen and wrote the first word.
But the young words are just the description of the music
There is no such thing as you in the vast sea of people,
Because in reality, people are searching for him thousands of times, but they can't see him in dimly lit places.
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He loves her, but she loves him
What is the final result?