The rain doesn't fall

The sand doesn't stop

The girl-next-door balcony is dotted with the lush greenery of garlic sprouts

I miss the teenager downstairs

Try to kick up a deflated memory, too

The city is getting old

The mellow fertile soil cannot withstand the vitality of the young seeds.

It seems imperative to aspire to the miracle of modernity

And I just like the old town

"I Choose to Chase Anger" Old Town is in the middle of a hand-hit, please wait a moment,

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