Lyrics of a little pain by Zheng Bingbing

It hurts a little

A city of lyrics

Composer Zheng Bingbing

Arranger Zhang Jianjian

Sing Zheng Bingbing

Harmony Yu Jianming & Zheng Bingbing

Jia Jia & Zheng Bingbing

Producer Zheng Bingbing

Recording Zhong Ying (Newman m149)

Studio Yueyin studio

Main song 1

When the familiar melody starts

When all around is quiet

You and I are the only ones left

Reunite in the moonlight of memory

Main song 2

You're the same as before

It's the same tone

When you speak, the stars shine in your eyes

So close to me, so close, so close

Chorus 1

You ask me if I'm ok

I want to take care of myself

I asked you if it hurt

Where is the pain

Interlude

Main song 3

The fragrance of flowers

Is it your favorite purple cattleyan?

Since you left, it has been with me every day

From the morning of dawn to the night of darkness

Main song 4

I really want to be like this all the time

My hand is in your hand

In silence

Immersed in our memories

Chorus 2

You ask me if I'm ok

I want to take care of myself

I asked you if it hurt

Where is the pain

ending

The pain is in my heart

Creative inspiration

Let me sing a tearful song, I hope you can also move, turn the original post of the hero, sacrifice

Mother,

One year ago today, you left us. Today, my son knelt down in front of your tomb, tears pouring down, sobbing. In the past year, I dare not think, dare not recall, because every time I think of you, I can't bear the pain in my heart, can't stop the tears. So far, I can't accept and believe that you really left us. A year ago, in a quiet night, I was lying on your bed, hoping to see or hear something, but there was no movement except the bleak moonlight. Mother, did you just leave quietly, and didn't let your son kneel down for you? Can't you hear my wailing?

Mother's kindness cannot be expressed in words. I know that you are the one who cares about me and loves me most in the world. Those days of simple food, those happy gatherings and departures are vividly remembered; your voice and smile, your carefulness and care are accompanied by the growth of your son. When my son grows up, he can keep forging ahead. It's not you who teach me how to read, but you teach me how to be a man. I remember when I was a child, what you gave me most was encouragement. When I came back from school, you praised my handwriting. Treat relatives and friends, you praise me for being polite. You have expectations for your son, that is to expect his success. You have hope for your son that he will go the right way. These irrigation, is not pruning pruning, so that the son embarked on a positive life path.

You devote most of your life to my love and care for my sister. This love goes far beyond yourself. Children are your permanent concern. There is something delicious that you are reluctant to keep for us. Even very small things, but also everywhere. To the people around you, you would rather work hard, but care for everyone. Your kindness of dripping water and the quality of gushing water to repay each other have always been the norm for your son's growth and life; your encouragement and expectations have always been the direction and motivation for his son. Since ancient times, no one has died. But I still can't accept your leaving. In my son's heart, you should be able to wait for the day when science can greatly extend human life. But mother, you have left us like this. I can't help but cry.

On the anniversary of your death, my son has a thousand words, but the only thing I can do is to wish you a happy life in heaven, surrounded by flowers, accompanied by fairy music, flying auspicious birds, lingering auspicious clouds, and eternal happiness.

My son kneels down......

Forward CI poet huayicheng wechat private message, thank you. This is a true story... I didn't say it in the group. On the eve of the Spring Festival in February last year, a friend's mother was seriously ill in China. He rushed back to pray that his mother would wait for him to go home. It turned out that I didn't catch up. After the funeral, he lay in his mother's bed, jet lag and heartache, unable to sleep. This time, he prayed to fall asleep, dreamt of his mother, and asked her if it hurt at the last moment. He loved orchids most in his life, and had good poetry. Cattleyan is a kind of orchid that is difficult to raise, and he raised it very well