We are a row of trees, standing in the dust of the city.
Many friends say we shouldn't stand here. In fact, we know this better than anyone. Our home is on the mountain, in the dark virgin forest. And we actually stand here, standing on the roadside of these two lanes, which is undoubtedly a kind of degeneration. Our companions are all sucking dew and playing with cool clouds. What about us? As you can see, our only decoration is a shaking ash.
Yes, our fate has been arranged. In this industrial city full of cars and chimneys, our existence is just a sad ornament. But you can save your sympathy, because this fate is actually our own choice, otherwise we don't have to grow green leaves frequently in spring and give shade in summer. The sacred cause is always painful, but only this kind of pain can give us depth.
As night falls, the whole city is full of strings and emergency pipes, red lights and green wine. And we are in silence, we are in the dark, we are in the loneliness that is not understood. However, we tried to grit our teeth until the flag of the morning glow, Ran Ran, rose and we stood in a row to pay tribute. Anyway, someone in our city has to meet the sun! If no one else greets us, we will be responsible for welcoming the light.
At this time, perhaps an early child came over and greedily breathed the fresh air. This is our proudest moment. Yes, maybe everyone has long been accustomed to filth, but we still stubbornly create a sense of freshness that is not cherished.
Standing in the dust of the city, we are a sad and happy tree.