In May, the fragrance of cauliflower and cuckoo make people busy, and all things grow. The prodigal son travels far away and misses his hometown. Browning, Mauser, No. 3 portable, or a revolver that explodes into human flesh. They can Give me the joy after despair, and face the dark muzzle of the gun, and you will see that from the twisting trajectory of history, I was born a second time. Endless conspiracy; the pain of childbirth is yours, it is you who taught me Lu Xun's essays. The heartless man and the passionate girl made an oath by the lotus pond, and now they are leaning on the railing alone, thinking about the falling flowers that will fill the sky. The dusk in May is so hazy, and after the torch procession shouts past, no one will see the flattered streets. They pour out, and the stupid people who no one will see after the talk of relieving people's livelihood are published in the newspapers and throw themselves into the mire, while the murderers, singing triumphantly about the freedom of May, hold on to the main hub of all invisible electricity. When are the spring flowers and autumn moon? The tomb grass in the suburbs is new again. Those who came to suffer in the past have turned into dust with the light wind. There is also a light net with silver threads in the dusk of May, seducing, melting, and capturing many years of memories. Hanging on the willow branches, a string Bright associations... float in the streams of air, stretching the enthusiasm... Then I blow out some bubbles, and I sink to the bottom, guarding your ancient prison with peace of mind, a feudal society stranded in the history of capitalism. A small boat on the blue river, the sunset and the smoke are not clear, the beautiful scenery of the good time *** You have a drink, I have a drink, and I am here to enjoy the dinner in May. In the shadow of the artillery fire, I exchange hostility, talk and laugh loudly, I will be above you, a master, until the arraignment bell strikes twelve o'clock.
Because you know, there is a little black thing hidden in my arms, a gangster, a liar, a gangster. Together, we walk on the chaotic streets - they dream of iron crutches, ugly beggars, immortals traveling around the world and being tired of the world. Flying up to the nine layers of cloud