Song: Smoke clouds
Walter Evans &; Barnyard grass and streams]
Original song: Joey Yung
Cover: Winter
Later period: Yao Lao
Artist: Liu Lijing
Special thanks: Shu Musi bamboo
It's the lonely butterfly.
Facing the wind and sunshine.
On the horizon of doom
Make a dazzling dance of W.
If Li Tang is brilliant,
Can be compared with flawless clouds and smoke.
My heart will turn into spring mud for you.
Expect smallpox like graupel B.
This floating dust is too much like an arrow overhead.
I glanced at you and melted into a soft heart.
The poem has thousands of lines.
This barren life suddenly looks like lava.
Love boiled for no reason, that moment.
Illuminate those distant places, and I will be lucky enough to see your smile from a distance.
Exactly.
It snowed in the middle of winter and the ice suddenly broke.
Mayflies curl their antennae and nerve endings.
Enjoy the warm flame of magical light that can be extinguished at one touch.
But enough to build a dream tall building.
This is also it.
It ran aground three thousand years ago after passing weak water.
Get off the boat and sleep in silence until the light comes.
The delicate firefly fell into the abyss.
As if the whole gentle world b
I heard that word.
The mouth that has been tossing and turning is moved to death and gentle.
It is hard to achieve the goal after painstaking efforts.
—M—
This floating world dust is too much like a line with no end.
Suddenly, I broke out of my cocoon and watched the frosty sky drift away.
Will melt the unfrozen ice and snow
This barren life suddenly looks like steel.
From the collapse of stars in the void and the trek of countless light years.
I was lucky enough to put it on your waist after being hit by the flame.
But never.
There is only one difference, so there is a difference.
How close is it? Two worlds have different endings.
I can't wait to talk about this new article in a few words.
Still connected, tracks overlap.
Kemingming
Separated by a natural barrier, but not far away.
No matter day or night, the city or the endless wilderness.
Vientiane is dazzled by your eyebrows.
It is warm in March.
This is a spring breeze.
Born on your lips many years ago.
I bypassed the north and south mountains, brushed the warmth and brushed my fingertips W.
It's the lonely butterfly.
Walking against the wind, the years are gone.
Look back.
An unreachable spring