The lonely geese whistle, the west wind blows, the dead leaves fall, the square knows that the autumn is thick, the cold is born from the bottom of my heart, and your emotions also end with the season, although all the memories are so clear, but the warm feeling is pale as the wilderness Withered yellow, full of autumn frost, full of enthusiasm, helpless feelings old feelings difficult, and gradually understand that falling flowers and winds, is not a vow of the pledge of the mountains; this life has gone, the front edge is difficult to continue, rain hit the autumn leaves, break the silence, fell to the ground The chill, the shadow of the past is not touched, only the hatred of the frosted flowers. The cold lotus pond moonlight, the memory of the long lost, the sigh as long as the years, the spectrum becomes a cold word, the night is not sleepless, the moon is cherished, the silence is silent, and the time is counted, and the ups and downs are struggling. The thoughts melt the hate into the helplessness of love. The tears on the corner of the eye last night are not dry, hate, resentment, and thoughts, condensing the fingertips, tapping the keyboard, tears streaming, what is the truth in the end, is not a thin life, cold and warm self-knowledge, not a touch of cold and early autumn The drizzle, falling on the glass, condenses into water droplets, flashing a little light, reflecting the night that is different from Tibet, which is a reflection of tranquility and hustle and bustle. In the early autumn season, I left Tibet. It has been several days. The climate in Chengdu is humid, the autumn rain is heavy, and there is no dry and cold smell of Tibetan specialties, but it is somewhat unsuitable. Maybe it is because of you. Just like this night, the memories are like a little bit of light, following the tone of the old scene Cheap Cigarettes, and the rain outside the window, breaking the desolateness and expectation, mixing together, breaking into my heart, turning into thin as The tears of the wing; the heart, the empty, the taste of the missing, who knows? The tears of Acacia, why have anyone seen it? A lonely road, a lonely soul, a bleak moon, outlines a sad picture, tears all the way, knocking on the heart, a tight, loose, but it is pain, miserable. I always thought that in the past life, I was a book of ancient books on your pillow. The piano in your hand, the poetry of your voice, I am so lingering in your heart, the encounter in this life, you gave me a short love, but It is a lifelong injury. I long for the love that I don��t break up in life Marlboro Lights. We used to want to witness the loyalty of love in my life. I longed for the hand of the hand; I thought that I would no longer write sadness. From then on, I listened to songs alone, one person shed tears, one person shrinks. In the corner that you have forgotten, I look forward to walking again from my side, hoping that your eyes will still fall on me, looking forward to the sunshine, warming my cold body, smoothing the wound, melting the pain, tearing the tears Dry, give me your hand and give me the warmth I want. On the icy rainy night, the slanting back shadow squirmed under the streetlight Newport Cigarettes Coupons, like a dust, wandering in the boundless way. As always, sitting in front of the computer, the fingertips hit the cold keyboard, but it is no longer a warm word. I know that you are always there. You are still playing with others, but you can��t see my tearful eyes in the dark. I can't see my waiting, I can't read my sad article, and the article is with you. Red dust, just the paleness of my own interpretation, a person wandering in the castle called memories, counting the days, counting the loneliness, counting every lost season, a lonely person waiting for the face to grow old. There have been so many loves hanging in my mouth, but they are all messy in the hurricane and cold rain. There have been so many vows engraved in my heart, but they have all been lost in the years of change. There have been so many dreams that have appeared, but nowadays dreams. In the middle, you are no longer a smile, but the back of the turn, the farther and farther, until no longer see the cold night, the autumn rain is ruthless, who is under the night, mournful wash the traces of the past, cut and confuse The vines are still trying to struggle, and they are still binding themselves over and over again, and they are reluctant to let go. It hurts, but nobody understands. Love is you and me, the hand of the hand, spend the spring, summer, autumn and winter together slowly grow old, and the old man, when the white hair is pale, look at the sunrise and sunset, you do not understand, you really do not understand. You are far away in this season, leaving only the cold, only one leaf, you know the season's yellow, the vertical and horizontal veins, there is no warm flowing, love lost its original appearance in the heart, this life has been broken, will it still I am eager to meet you again, whether I will sprinkle my enthusiasm on you, whisper, and lie on the cold window sill. The autumn rain gently strokes my cheeks and gently picks up the dried leaves, floating. Uncertainty, life has passed too often, has been turned into the water of the East, at this moment only suddenly realized, the original red dust, you are just a passing passenger, but this life does not change.