The end of the world, the bright moon, old age.
Time, wind and frost, knife.
Thirty thousand miles away from the weak water, how can you hear me calling you softly?
Hometown, father, old.
In the world, loneliness, escape.
The mist and rain are far away on the road, I can't find you everywhere, your desolate face has faded.
It would be nice to see you again.
Noisy for half a lifetime, every minute, every second, but it will grow old gradually.
You don't want all the romance, what can I give you in exchange for your smile.
Conception: