Shanghai 2050
The four seasons are like the wind, everything floats away lightly, and no one can remember who they were at that time. The wind blows, and the yellow leaves fall, one by one, spinning and flying. She watches silently in front of the window, lost in thought, and everything seems to reappear again...
Whose seasons
Replace my years
Whose singing voice
Witnessed my past
whose smile
Keep sadness for me
i saw
The clouds on the left are swaying
The wind on the right is sad and sad
Who is at the end of my world?
Already filled with sunshine