The record spun hoarsely on the gramophone, and the glorious ballroom was like a dream.
No one cares about those beautiful faces, beautiful singing voices, the undercurrents surging in the collision of wine glasses, and the tortuous words.
The car lights flashed across the dark alley, hurting the fugitive's eyes, and the gun went off.
Don't suffer for people's livelihood, don't cry for your lover, work for power and profit, or live in hardship.
Everyone is doing their best for their own hearts, thinking they can save this troubled world.
But in the face of war, everything is just a dream.
Intention: It's not anyone's fault, it's the uncontrollable desire