The Moon Is More Silent. Where Is The Acacia?

Heaven and autumn light turn around and hurt.

Flowers fall at this time, and the moon is round at this time.

Now I am happy, and I am worried.

Who cares?

Who is a bosom friend?

August,

After the most beautiful evening, it is the darkest night. On the darkest night, it seems to see each other holding his head.

If you do not know each other, who do you miss?

Such a surge of excitement?

Memory pushes time to go, and heaven's row is not destined for this person's lifetime sorrow.

The moon is even more silent. This world, that flower, that person, is so entangled.

The rain is forgotten in the corner, and the heart is fragile.

In the late autumn, the same, different things can not be understood thoroughly.

The dream that he is holding in his arms is like winter and warm yang.

Though never owned, it is hard to give up.

Some people, some memories, we can not control him.

Behind us is not a lifetime traveller, but a painful wreck.

Thinking of the world, lonely and assertion.

Once longing for the armed forces, I longed for that Mandarin Duck.

Then the sun was empty, and the moon was sad.

Gradually coming, only then knows that is the road.

Greedy for mortals, greedy for you, heartbeat hurts.

A cup of melancholy, farewell this life.

Looking for the future from home, it is doomed to die for nine days.

Rely on past events, only why today become strangers.

I worry about my heart, the chill of the cold, and how to let go of the row.

Happiness is blooming on the other side, touching the imaginary beauty, and wondering who has picked the happy flower personally.

Let the third world reincarnation, without knowing the story, shake off the sadness of this world.

Things are in disorder, happiness is sorrow, and who knows the destruction behind the lies.

Grasp, but lost the original direction.

At the end of the world, there are only traces left behind by you.

Smooth and unrestrained, the season's miss can only be forced to bear.

Yesterday's chaos, today's worry, all the way stumbling.

The streets of red wine and green wine are no longer in the past.

Love is hard to break.

Is not unwilling, but the reality is too helpless.

This season has been long and long.

I almost buried all my memories.

Flowers bloom, and autumn gradually empties everything I have.

How can I hide the pain of the wound and let my friends see my weakness.

That love, that love, that period of unfinished love, how can I wave in my heart.

Hypocrisy occupies all of me.

Here, I can only imagine the beauty of being with you.

Forget the pledge, forget the happiness.

I can only keep silent for you.

Remain unfamiliar.

The fragmented feelings are put down, persistent, or continue, and hope that they will not be remembered after that.

In the full moon, the sky looks stunned.

At that time, that year, the dead bones of the past.

Today, the pledge is like a villain.

Depend on each other, do not leave or leave.

In the end, I am still drunk with the wind and dust, till two cease and two cease.

On sunny days, the man was like a smoke.

Good night, the other side.

The miserable yellow figure sobbed in the bright moonlight, remembering the fleeting end of scattered life.

It is a sad heart to break away from the heart. It reverberated in the crowd and was still unable to let go.

Life has made me look good and fragile. It has been said that the town is gorgeous, but it can be hidden in the depths.

The night is so beautiful that every night, alone in the dim corner of the street lamp, looks at the past affairs in the name of Gu Lou.

At the end of the season, the street corner just drove me to gaze at the mountain, the water.

It is the sweetness that has been given to me, or the fact that I never had the perfect ending to the story, so today I can not control your heart. If you hadn't let the sadness out of your face so much, I wouldn't feel so painful today.

Once I met strangers, I remember them in my heart. I will write a diary for you. You said our love should be locked to the end.

Why do you want to make a vow to become a wind, to tear it up and lock it up, leaving me singing love songs alone, when you pack your bags on your back and set out on your journey.

He can recall his mind.

I think you want to worry about it, silently waiting for your moment, to give you a busy mood to make a holiday, so that yesterday moved to tears, so that today's smile is more brilliant.

I thought I learned to hide.

Then slowly forget the past.

Finally, it is not wind and light.

Love is like a thousand turns.

Maybe I am disturbing you, I am sorry, I never said anything.

I don't know. What would I be like without you?

That person, my dream, when I was all she was, I didn't mean to get rid of her.

From the beginning of the happy agreement to the last heartbroken.

Smooth and unrestrained, the season's miss can only be forced to bear.

Yesterday's chaos, today's worry, all the way stumbling.

The streets of red wine and green wine do not have a deep feeling in the past.