Once dragged the shadow of memories.
Fragmented and lengthy, rolling down.
Feet, hands like firewood, vicissitudes of life
On the face, some dull eyes solidified.
The past is an unbearable weight.
Those gains, regrets, pride
Or painful right and wrong, all
The treasure chest that has been sealed in time is bent.
Years have drained the fantasy, leaving only.
The skinny reality is accompanied all day long, and
A rusty key is at the waist.
blowin'in the wind
Sentiment similar to late autumn, intentional.
Or unintentional touch, that hazy
Red, orange, yellow and green stools float on the end of the pen and paper.
Used for short-range or long-range imaging.
Like the candlelight at night reflecting the wings of thinking.
Wandering in the wasteland of the mind has nothing to do with sadness or joy.
I just can't escape this high wall without doors.
After a period of wind and rain, it precipitated into the past.
Like an unremarkable shell on the beach.
Wait quietly, quietly, maybe
An accident, an idea, it will
Break into your mind and occupy your dreams.
Or skim the water, or stir the sea water on the river.
Of course, after a wave, maybe
It will be buried at the bottom of the sea and completely forgotten.
Once, in the past, it was always radioactive.
Shape, a Pangu, a Pangu.
Extending to the endless distance, but on the line.
Isn't every point a road sign? It has always been.
Guide the way home
Once, in the past, I was constantly shifting my will.
An objective image, whether you like it or not, it
Just standing there and looking around, some people can say goodbye gently.
Keep it in your heart, but there are some things to remember.
Play it back from time to time and identify it in real life.
measure
In the past, stepping on the wheel of history.
Always on the road