Purple Moor Red Dust, who allows me to live forever

Who walked from whose life, amazing whose time, crushed whose thoughts soft intestines, difficult to comfort; Who from whose eyes across, intoxicated whose previous life, empty who this life infatuation, dry life; Who from whose dream, wake up whose loneliness, splash whose heart lake blue waves, a long time; Who from whose vision disappeared, filled whose memory, evoked whose melancholy thoughts, only hate shallow.

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Purple Mo Red Dust, who is the protagonist of who lives, who wasted his time, wasted a Sichuan misty rain, empty but full of flying catkins.

Countless times with a person in the vast sea of people met, but there is no reason to chat up, can only wait and see from afar, how can the heart not cool lost.

Always missed countless times in the crowd, that glance, actually intoxicated the past life. But I accidentally left my heart in that moment, after which a lot of moments to find it back, sour in each moment spread, sad in each moment of missing growth, it will fall in whose palm, and who will take it?

Time flies, and the moment of meeting has gradually gone away, nowhere to be found. Now that he recalled it, there were too many vague plots. The only thing that was clear was that pair of clear eyes.

Perhaps, this life's fate, already doomed, just do not know how to interpret it.

So, has been searching, searching for that moment, but to find, but only to find the fireworks curtain call of the cold. Those moments stay in the bottom of my heart, touch the time, already condensed pain into death.

Thinking of you makes me old, and the years are late.

This empty world, perhaps, already does not belong to me.

The sad breeze blew away the fragments of memories, leaving only a string of words, like the sadness that could not be hidden between eyebrows, light and long. The misty sky, like this gloomy life, is always less sunny and cold. Those dust-laden memories, is unable to release the pain, is also unable to repose sorrow.

Everything was as short as a clear dream. When he woke up, his heart was empty. When he reached out and touched it, he realized that he had never caught anything. My tears, scattered in the wind, magic into a wisp of residual smoke, I do not know where. Looking up, I see the devastation in front of me, just like my sad heart.

No one will understand, I wander in purple street red dust lonely, full of worries all day, haggard face, daily pen rely on memory copy happiness, with pen tip one by one hit the loneliness of paper, with Acacia full of blue sky.

The helplessness of the world, early let people feel tired. And love deep margin shallow encounter, but also let people feel fireworks dream. That difficult to comfort the pain, as the haze heavy, let people nowhere to escape, can not forget.

Hidden in the late spring streamer piled up in the mood, but because of the flowers to fall, swallow return drops, these drops but sold a heart full of loneliness. Flourishing red dust, only I am alone, facing the wind at the crossroads, can not find a way out.

Predestined helplessness, is what pain, I think, only fellow travelers understand. Can't avoid the love deep margin shallow, in the spring dark to reverse, the song did the secular lonely sorrow.

No matter how painful the past is, it has finally become the past, and what makes people think is the hopeless future.

Purple Mo red dust, who allows me to the end of time, from now on, no longer alone in the dead of night.