Lyric

I have long forgotten

The wound in my heart

The wind has passed by

Leaving only a wall of silence

The scab and callus

Hardens and thickens

Painless and itchless

Like a wall, like a stone, like an ancient monument

Youth is like the scenery outside the window that keeps receding

Like the sound traces that the needle rolls over and rotates repeatedly

That day the spring breeze passed by

The scent of grass after the rain gently slid across the fingertips

The knight with a knife appeared on the street corner

Steady steps

The sword light tumbled and the knife shadow was like a flower

Who will break the wasteland in my heart

Who will cut open the silent night

The scar that has never cracked

Begins to tremble

Like a whispered poem flying out of the darkness

Little by little, inch by inch

Flowing out

Blood dyed red Dust also dyes this silent dusk red

If this injury is a poem from a previous life, I wish to get drunk again in thousands of cups and glasses

There will be a time to ride the wind and waves

I use blood as ink

What I wrote is just

A poem that no one can take away

The blood drips quietly

Dyeing the dust red

Also dyeing this silent dusk red