Crazy Rebel(l)s
Thema drucken
15.06.2019 08:57
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Whose story is stained with wind cream, whose memories are broken, the old days are old, the wind is dusty, the tears are wet, the old rings are quiet at night, the autumn wind is rustling, the moon is cool like water, the fragrance is shaking and the branches are lingering. The leaves, the bleak back of the moonlight stretched the loneliness and the humble loneliness. One person stays under the sluggish sycamore tree, together with the moonlight and the dark night, blending into it, deeply feeling the darkness of the night. The dark street lights are still full of tears, because there are so many sad feelings in the story of late autumn. If a person is tired of some unfinished memories, how can they escape? If a person is tired of some indifferent sadness, then how to laugh, the night blew the leaves of the branches, the bleakness of the moonlight dyed the sorrow of the night. A person stands quietly in the night, listening to the hoarse sound of the wind blowing the leaves, the residual flowers are falling, the leaves are buried, the moon is full of sadness and memories, the cool breeze bursts, the thoughts are entangled, the shaded willows, The clouds are scattered, the flowers are open, the leaves are defeated, and the wind is sad. Who has listened carefully to the sadness hidden in the silence, accompanied by the wind, dreams, sad scenery, simple dreams, and the clouds Go, fall with the wind Marlboro Red, look at the distance, watch the time, with a warm light, take away a little bit of the past and forget the past, slowly dissipate into that beautiful night scene, short-lived beauty, but There is a long-lasting memory, and the years have been remembered with a forgotten memory, in exchange for a sad tears, always in the wind when the city. The heartbeat of the swaying heart fell on the flatness of the fireworks of the past. There is no longer any temperature in the rhyme, and those who give you a blank, covered with vicissitudes. All the stories are still to be continued, but they are far away from the tea in the middle of the story. There is no more moonlight, you can have a city. After all, it��s just a passer-by. After all, I��m still a glamorous woman. I can��t walk into your brilliant city. I think maybe the obsession is tired. In your twilight, I am no longer the green woman. Going to the mountains and rivers, you have already traced the future, quietly buried in a lazy afternoon. I am quiet, clear and lonely Marlboro Gold, lonely. Quiet. Perhaps, some years, will sprout in the dust, the yellow memory in the dust is a roller blind full of wind chimes, can not hide a trace of traces in the aftertaste. The wind rises and wrinkles like a flower, and your smile shakes and shakes, becoming the most beautiful embellishment on my way. Seeing the grass grows, watching the fall, watching the shadows of the season reincarnation. Milling memories... There are some things that, after the years, may be remembered Cheap Cigarettes, no longer hidden stories of light and shadow, no longer the illusory of the shallow windows, the threshold of the sun, because Fine, because of loneliness, there are only one layer after another, which is difficult to peel off. I know, it feels that even if you put your thoughts together and put them into the morning wind, put them into the rain of the wind, and put them into the rain, you can no longer become poems. Because, the slow time will eventually solidify the poetry, and the veins of the poem, the wings of the wings, have been abandoned in the old site of time, unable to fly with tears. So, no longer write arbitrarily, no longer write sentences that are not related to myself, no longer write the story of the night, the rest of the night is still in my heart, the dark night, the twigs of the late breeze are still so sad, who is it? Quietly sing the songs that are separated, the shadow of the moonlight falls into the shadow behind me... I still don��t want to speak, still so quiet and sad. The years are the double knives, the annual rings across the corners of memory Online Cigarettes, the fine light and shadow shake off the past of the dust, the cool heart, the quiet, the heart will be old, the time will be scattered, I have to rely on the former The shadow quietly tells the sadness, whose story is stained with the wind and frost, whose memories are broken, and the old days are old, the wind is dusty, the tears are wet, the old years are old, the time is dyed, the autumn is locked, the moon is broken. Such as hooks, Xiaoyun wandering, elongated shadow, who is in a low-pitched predicate. The years of glory, the time of dyeing, the sorrow of the separation is still in the bottom of my heart, the fine light and shadow wrinkled like a flower, the years of glory, the time of dyeing, whose story has been stained with wind and frost, whose memories are broken, the old time, the old, the old Wind dust, wet tears, old rings Marlboro Lights... |
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