I can't see your face, I can't touch your hands, I can only feel someone whispering in my ears, those indifferences, those sorrows. I want to warm you, but I can't even warm myself. You sing in my dreams, singing your sorrow, and your singing makes me panic. Listen, the crow sings hoarsely, singing you the dark sorrow. Searching in confusion, I couldn't find my destination. I just saw that the black Manzhu Shahua withered in the rain and looked particularly gorgeous.
Conception: