My youth is a prose poem written on the beach
They are foggy eyes filled with cold tears.
It's the blood that flowed on the wall when my forehead was broken.
It's your last gesture of waving goodbye
Not bad
Youth is gone, youth is lost
Nowadays, I am just a wretched woman who is good at curling up in the corner and smoking.
But you are still handsome, still bright, and you are still as heroic as before
Are we destined to miss, get lost? Or has fate arrived?
Music: "One sentence hurts"