The pure white and dull water floats in my heart, portraying a wonderful and beautiful story, the people in the hometown have feelings and truths, and the words in the matter are thousands of thoughts in my mind, because the heart is beating, the deeds are drifting, but I am moving forward like a picture, but I can't have an inscription like TV ---------- advance and retreat

The navigation line of the summoning leads my thoughts tactfully in the clarity of tears, a gentleness, a browsing, and the familiar melody can not portray the love in my heart, whether it is really a fate, or a cold heart, when the words are sad, I can't play the song in my heart to the current road. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

The silent brush can disappear the color of memory, but it can't be dyed into the traces in the heart, the careless tears, the confused misplaced password but the sad discardable, the weight of the chain mail, lost in the helpless position, and the tears of the pouring out of words The rush of deeds, is the busy change, or the perception of stopping, the movement of everything, the cape of a step, in the sky or in the heart.

Looking at the autumn wind will break, thinking about people will change, and beware of the haggard who can see the desolate taste, feel the taste of loss, the flow of the heart, the knock on the door, the disappearance of thoughts, wandering around the anger but with happy warmth, is a warm blessing, or a lovely hope, when there is no destined, you can still know the arrival of fate.

Promise to cry at the end of the world in the cape of the heart, crying is really fragile with traces, intercession has not been able to tell the taste of emotion, and tasting the feelings of lovesickness and tears can not get the condolences of the encounter, walking in the vertical and horizontal line of time, who in the line pulls the feeling of love, and the tears in the feeling fall for whom.

The muttering heart, the reversal of words can not measure the eternity in the heart, and the tactfulness of losing the promise but protecting the tears of lovesickness can not be felt separately, when leaving the tears and returning to the corner of lovesickness, I understand the taste of sadness, all the sensitivity because of the desolation of things and freeze the expectation of the heart, a bleak cycle can not deduce the melody of temptation.

When looking at the stars in the north, what is unforgettable is the past, a dream of a star, a heart and a person, a position circulates a lot of words, and people's comings and goings can not be located, can only pull the tears of lovesickness to interrogate the distance traveled, not for the future, do not answer the past, only spread the past in the heart, deduce a person's time and meet two people.

Midnight dreams knock on the curtain of longing, open the door of desolate fate, but can not compose the destined melody, is the loss of beauty, or the brilliant and rainbowless cycle, when time leaves, the place is discarded, the inner words have been circulating, there is no lost past, there is no finished journey, walk in my heart, it is difficult to enter your heart.

There is a deserted city in the corner of the north look, and the deliberate corner shows the wordlessness of grief and indignation, the muttering emotions are felt and known, there is a heart to break the tears, quietly leave, a short combination, the tears of leaving can not continue to write the agreement, the combination of lovesickness can not change the desolation of the dynasty.

The sad dream is entangled with the tears of farewell and falls on the side of Acacia, all the spring and autumn wandering in the pessimistic and lukewarm position of the heart, circulating the monotonous taste, is the ignorance of tears, or the helplessness of the sense, all the changes are still bright, and all the traces are still spring.

The sad charm pierced the bridge of my nose, and walked into the heart and crossed into the river of thoughts, tactfully wandering on the edge of tears, unable to pour out the destined gains and losses, unable to part with the feelings of perception, the feelings in the heart, in the sense of change in place, the feeling in the heart, in the direction of love is doomed.

The evening breeze of love walks into the position of dawn, chooses around the traces in the heart, walks in the wrong corner of sadness, and the heart falls without feeling, tears fall without sound, and the cycle of thoughts is destined to write a picture of no chance in the difficult to inject, the heart is no longer the sense of the past, and there is no longer a picture of the past.

The sad autumn wind pierces into the desolate city, a charming feeling has a clutch tune, when the sound is broken, the vertical and horizontal lines of time are drawn in front of you, and all the mood is tactfully drawn in the desolate deserted city is destined to be lost. And the light of the composition is not warm, and there is still a knowledge of the spring and autumn period to deal with.

The poignant picture engraved my heartstrings, pulling a seductive tune to spin in the hopeless deserted city, walking in the perception without melody, a piece of no regrets has a duty of love, a piece of fragrance tells a decisive drenching, tears are still clear, and the heart is still clear.

The tears paid off on the intoxicating idiot painting, burning the inseparability of lovesickness, lighting up the wrong corner of disappointment, looking at the poignant abandonment, standing on the lonely cape, guarding the fate of no part, hanging the doom of ignorance. Who can hear the tears of lovesickness, who can see the fragile red dust, and the mortal world is never silent.

The indescribable tenderness has a period of bitter sorrow, portraying sadness but can only use tears to cover up the inner lovesickness, the painting of parting walks in a warm corner, a little confused direction, but has been looking for the wrong password, when you can, but you can't deliberately deduce how fragile and powerless it has been.

The brilliance of time burns in the red dust of the heart and then engraves a sad scene, what falls is lovesickness, what is waiting is tears, there is no picture of the past, the heart of the field can still be paid off, the spread of thoughts can still be counted neatly, all the talk, a piece of spread in the lightless tears written do not understand, look at sadness.

What reason can determine the excuse in the heart, what words can say goodbye to the lovesickness of deeds, what tears can be dyed into the city of love, when the rainbow of the years drifts away, the tactful portrayal of the mood begins to struggle in the mood of sadness, the pain of the heart burns, the fate of love opens, but the source of the heart has been letting the East withdraw from the exchange of thoughts.

Gentle farewell, the cycle of perception, visiting the red dust of the years, but to give up the embankment in the heart, all the perception around the warm fragrance hovering in the road of hope of ups and downs, is the animation of the sense, or the explanation of love, the edge of the world is at the end of the world, the edge of the world is in the cape, there is no time to meet in the sky, and the Wanjing of the heart begins to cycle in the undestined years.

The hundred poisons of compassion depict the invasion of love, let the thoughts burn on the road of lovesickness, fold the wings of dreams and soar in the sky of tears, the rainbow line of the sky disappears in the company of ten thousand scenes, the heart field without a cape at the end of the world, and the hope of infatuation and blessing.

The evening breeze of the night rain has the desolation of arriving early, when the mortal dust is drunk and stepping on the snow, when the fragility is dyed into a rainbow, when the lovesickness of the heart confesses with tears, a lot of nostalgia is a song without a sound, a single cycle of thoughts, stepping into the fragrance, but there is no warmth of the season, walking into Wanjing, there is still no love in the past, the soul cries in front of the heart, lowers his head and looks at the poignant shadow and cries and grows.

Tired time pries open my heart, open my mind, spread the bleak past, but I want to raise the sail in my heart and run for tomorrow, and the position of the years tolerates my thin heart, but will not stay in the warmth of a lifetime belongs to me.

The love of the years disappeared in the night of the red dust, quietly guarding the tears of warm thoughts, accompanying the corner, not stopping because of the traces, not letting the tears helplessly fall on the wounds of the heart, letting the deeds stack in the tears, letting the words burn on the road of lovesickness, and letting the lonely mood have the prosperity of yesterday.