We met when we were young and stayed with each other, but the passing years are like sand in our hands.
How sweet it was because of love in the past, but how sad it is now.
Asking but not getting, having nothing to do, tossing and turning, but the days will eventually go on. If you can't hold the sand in your hands, just let it go.
Morning dew condenses into frost, which is right and wrong.
Concept: Look at it from another angle, everything is a different scenery