Every hero is a prodigal, a prodigal with no roots. Their people are floating, and their hearts are floating. The world is so big, there are homes everywhere, and there are no homes everywhere. You can sing and sharpen your sword after drinking. In your dreams, you are happy with your grudges. Friendship is a heavy burden on your shoulders, and fame and wealth are trodden under your feet.
"I run, and God travels thousands of miles. In the world, it is difficult to avoid right and wrong;
I am beheaded, I am in a dilemma between benevolence and righteousness, I don't know how to make a choice;
I am crazy, I only know how to fight with swords all my life, but in the end it is empty and sad, and it is difficult to look back;
I am cold, and the vast world has sucked up a thousand of my light;
I am pale, and the heat of the situation has turned my black hair into white complexion;
I hide, all the grudges and grudges in the world are hazy, everything is scattered with the wind, and I feel free and happy;
This is the song of the prodigal son, the voice of the prodigal son. They sang this tragic song. They came in a hurry and left quietly, leaving only a desolate figure in the world.