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I choose the back seat,

Don't look ahead

Because the front is too far

It will always come to an end

I watch you go back in time

Not like the stern

In addition to the edge of the sky, there is only the edge of the sky

I'm on the way

Trees on both sides of the city

A pair of galloping foals

Get under the sun

I pulled the two lines of the car retreating

Go back in time

I think of the rack car I rode in when I was a kid

Father is behind

After finishing the farm work, he dragged me home

It's slow, it's slow

"The Song of Things" poem, additional prose back seat is in the hand, please wait a moment,

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