Three songs outside "The Neverending One".

Poetic Thing

I'll explain to you that I don't mind

Your hair, dark, is still that kind of shame

The background color is made up, the appearance, I don't want to talk about it

Just think about it, something poetic

I'm going to explain it, to you, to explain its forehead

The nose may be on the high side, and I'm going to reach out and prove my mettle

Stretch into its maze and the wind will surely rise

Like the winter after a certain holiday, we hold the faded sunset

Leave footprints of thought on each other's clothes

Then it will turn around and I can't see it

One in the corner, the storm was set off by it

It admits it, it regrets it, and it even after I fell asleep

Crawl out of my dream to breathe

Ethereal Song

And then there's you, your hands, holding something

Get used to it, so many years, breathe the same way

His wounds have been on my shoulders, and who hasn't

Sir, you are in the north, silent town

If there's anything you can't do, it's better to go up to that little hill

There's nothing wrong with swearing, and my neighborhood has two entrances

It's better to stick your nostrils to the ground, it's the smell of oil rather than the fragrance of grass

The old man with bones and skin, the old man in late autumn

Time slowly imagines him, I want to be with you

Girl, separate from that sky of yours

And with the lock of the dream, he locked my ten fingers

The beast in me tried to come out

"The Song That Never Ends"

My heart, have you ever seen it, I don't want your needle and thread

If you can't sew up the days, it's better to use my sorrows

Make the color of the top, delicious and fragrant color

Painted on the face, but what is he still doing?

His hand touched, and there was no end to the path

Yes, there must be flowers, and white butterflies, dreams must be

Leaked my secrets, in that never-ending poem

The lyricism has begun, the girl has woken up, and love is day and night

Sir, your daughter may be mine

When the evening falls velvety drizzle

Fictional of my pain, girl, you go on

And silent love will come down the corner of your eye

It was blown up by the southern wind and put it in my jacket

"Snow in the South"

His hands were dark, he must have touched the night cloud

She was in her yard, thinking of a tree, after she was old

There will be more trees, and I won't be confused

Nor will it walk into your house, a mushroom house

When your hands are in your hands, the stars of the night,

Looking like a Spaniard, I didn't speak

Lies don't come to my back, and never

falls to your eyebrows, and sparks are generated

My boots will get on your false eyelashes

You'll be like spring with the narration in the novel

Then the sky above the grocery store with that row of warm snow

After learning the pronunciation of the south, he went to the north to speak with the wind