The song of April, the me of June, the wind of July, the rain of August, the rain of September, you will not be there now, and you will not be there now. The humble me who likes you who are far away is still in the future. How dare I leave you in the future, and I still like you. If you agree, I will definitely go, but you don't know that my presence will not allow you to participate in your past, and the future will be out of reach, but I still like you until I grow old.