forget the ever once can't let go

An autumn cloud, one dream, years like boiling time, a bit, a bit devouring our youth, we tried to run, to cry, hysteria. But eventually annihilation in waste to counter attack, finally finally settling out a quiet tears of blood Singapore business formation. To become a burden in this quiet without soul body, in a so-called "mature" will have to unruly, aloof, rebellious tu wash out slowly, at the same time, will also be false, perfunctory, camouflage, implant clean mind, let it unclean, as its turbidity. Gradually, we became numb, become good, also was the brew into flesh and blood "mature" aroused deep that I don't know the name of "slave", like a nightmare layers of denudation already mutilated to heart.

Once upon a time, we are no longer cry, cry no longer, because at this time all to all the dirty, perhaps because it is a just, a struggling to society, the original faith of all the hard to avoid some standout, conflicts, such as a rat crossing the street, all go to the wall, in the definition of the social recognition, hideously ridiculous.

After all, we are content with the status quo, to the light with the same faces a different soul been bleached. We've forgotten what is called alexander hera pre wedding"personality", forget how to say "if", forgotten once the young ivory tower ground story, forget the ever once can't let go...

"See the light, however, some" pale to word unexpectedly became the endorsement of the proud of our times, flapping in front of other people that like hand drum hollow chest said: this is our time!

During storm swept through the years, we struggle, no longer only a kind of common ground to tear shout, I do not know is lucky, or fear, perhaps only oneself know, but no matter how, also change not to return have failed to youth, leaving only the heavy memories filled with blood, only the step by step to perfect and with tears and floor into a string of red footprints, melancholy air under the setting sun is reflected a strange beautiful, at the same time also saturated with a sweet scent, one is about to be familiar with or already familiar smell...

Life is like two hands, one hand on busy, mourn. Let us use memory to festivals we already lost youth, set a inscriptions, as well as the one I can never explain to your themerack.