Young, like to be rolled up by myself at the seaside. Pants always fantasize about another world at the end of the ocean when walking barefoot on the beach. He always thinks that brave sailors are real men and always appear weak. When he is bullied, he always hears sailors say that this pain in the wind and rain is nothing to dry your tears. Don't be afraid. At least we still have dreams. He said that the pain in this storm is not enough to dry your tears. Don't ask why.
When I grew up, I gradually ignored the news of my parents' hometown. Now life is like acting, telling insincere words and always deceiving yourself with a false mask. There is always a sense of emptiness, and it is always necessary to rely on a little alcohol anesthesia to fall asleep. I seem to hear the sailor say that this pain is nothing in the wind and rain. Don't be afraid. At least we still have dreams. He said the pain was nothing in the wind and rain. Don't ask why.
I can't find any living evidence. The asphalt road in the city is too hard to step on. Proud and ignorant modern people don't know how to cherish the ocean and the world destroyed by civilization. Only by staying away from the crowd can I find myself breathing freely in the salty air. Whistles and sailors' laughter are in my ears. I always hear sailors say that this pain in the storm is nothing. Don't be afraid. At least we still have dreams. He said that the pain in the storm was nothing. Don't ask him why he said that this pain in the wind and rain is nothing. Don't be afraid. At least we still have dreams. Don't ask him why he said that this pain in the wind and rain is nothing. Don't be afraid. At least we still have dreams. Don't ask him why he said that this pain in the wind and rain is nothing. . . . .