Late at night
Never changed the thoughts of the grandfather
Often ask myself
Gone so long
Where are you going out?
This need a year to the warm season I was thinking
Dead body of thought it? Voice and face it?
With joy and sorrow should not leave the passage of the body
I do not know where
Is always on my side it
I just want to rest
No way to escape
Because I want to be strong
There was very warm
Should be very happy
Who miss the late
The stigma of something deep memory is so profound. . . . . . . . . .
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