Flowers Cry and Flowers Fly

In such a noisy city How silent I am Always describing the abomination of reality from the perspective of a superior A person's world is so quiet Listening to the deathly silence of this world Describing the fall of this world The purity that once inspired people's imagination has disappeared Walking on a road full of thorns Looking for an ax to chop down thorns But heading towards the feared Valley of Death The heart that cannot be quiet in the darkness keeps running towards shrinking The little gap is also closing. Every minute every second Flowers cry and flowers fly, who knew that poignant love would be so short-lived. . . . . .