Those children who are still nursing.
Children who want to grow a youthful beard should not be like me.
A man with a lame soul can only talk on BB.
I retreated into my own shadow
But I'm afraid my shadow will hit someone else.
On the streets in June, people talk with the air conditioner on.
Every lamp is bright for itself.
Only street trees, occasionally holding hands.
I don't know myself.
Like a lost sheep, lost sheep
Occasionally, I will call timidly.
Just screaming, don't even know why.
But I can't hear your voice in June. It's gone.
I ran all the way, but there were red lights everywhere.
Young couples are not afraid.
They are talking about love, and people in love have no eyes.
My legs are aching and my feet are messy.
Always join those wrong queues at critical moments.
I'm not familiar with today's crossroads and those tall buildings.
I don't like this color either, such as wearing the wrong clothes.
Those who have life guides, those who wander at intersections.
They always appear suddenly and then disappear suddenly.
This is my city.
We walked on stilts together.
Leave? Just think about it.
Although not very well.