inter breeze of the night and a thread of a ray from the front of the window

The night is yet young, red tear steal down, melancholy and my love my guns. Missing in the cold night, a little silk, a plume, freely and not. So, I forgot to tell you, in my heart of few and far between, always full of your shadow, filled with your smile, filled with your voice. There are so many of you, the night is no longer a long, windy days are no longer afraid of the rain, a flower waiting for flowers, only to be who that bloomed.

Green water flows East, Castle Peak still, when I look back a while you and I have come over more than 10 years. Twisting opening times in the past, scene dependent phase warm images of fear, one utterance of the word tenderness is honey, there are the three conventions to death without metaphor, multitudes. Perhaps, as I'm concerned for you, hold hands, and husband and wife grow old together, is no longer just a dream. Those days that come together, joy, sadness, happiness, pain, or hard, bitter, are engraved in our days old abandoned road, one year.

Winter breeze of the night, a thread of a ray from the front of the window, and look again a bright moon, I am still Suyan faint, yearning to die young. The night is still, Moon still, without the warmth of you by my side, slightly acid, the eye is slightly astringent, softly whisper, at this point, there will I appeared in your dreams. And I in fact, is awakened from a dream, unable to sleep, but a trail on your mind, lies in the 00 in the handwriting of the ups and downs.

Flowers, time changes, hundred thousand Man hung in the world, I have a special liking for your clock. People guns, thinking of parting, I could curl of tenderness, all your previous curtain deep dream, I would still be waiting for you holding rose, miles as I waded, and handle thousands of years.

When I look back, time slip. If time is able to flow backwards, I think, I will no longer have the heart to, let your tears wet the keyboard like a rain fly, don't you tear slightly. Tap memory gate door leaf, fingers closely dreams aware? It was past lives: peach made this life? Even if the heart communicates, dreaming the same, the outcome remains helpless separation.