Bright moon and stars accompany me all the way,
In my eyes of scorn,
I picked the stars and the moon and spread them on the cold road,
The dust breaks tens of millions and makes some strange noises.
The moon, the stars, the water,
Like I'm dying of ashes,
How can the broken be compensated, how can the lost be forgotten,
People on the road of love make me constantly hurt.
I picked the stars and the moon and spread them on the cold road,
The dust breaks tens of millions and makes some strange noises.
The moon, the stars, the water,
Like I'm dying of ashes,
How can the broken be compensated, how can the lost be forgotten,
People on the road of love make me constantly hurt.
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