Without your years, like a roll of ink in the cold river fishing. Lonely, deep tunnel; ethereal, long. In this way, we walked on our own roads and walked among beautiful people. Bring a touch of warm sun, hold a fragrant incense, let love, in the lonely thoughts of the brilliance of the inscriptions, the years are still flowing quietly, not turbulent, lonely world. I mean the beautiful years that I can��t go back. I haven��t been to many places, and I��ve been reincarnation only in the four seasons between you and my city. Ferry red dust, the brigade travels. I will always volley into a butterfly that dances in the wind, and tirelessly flies to the horizon where you are, and God also makes our jokes. On a return trip, I should have taken a family of three with one car, but because of the overload of one person in the car, you have to be forced to get off and take another tour bus. All the way to meditation, this is not the most precious interpretation that God has given me: You will always be a beautiful scenery in my life that is rushed and rushed. No matter how far you go, we are bound to stop in a hurry. Not for the sake of the scenery, but for the agreement of each other. Every time we arrive at a station, we must call down from the car to call each other's name. Our voice cut through the dark and quiet night sky, and the surrounding loneliness and loneliness became soft and warm because of our shouts. The drivers of the two cars looked at us quietly, as if they had stopped, just for our meeting. I and your life are so separated and reunited in the drift Marlboro Red. Presumably, the red dust is too crowded, and I can��t afford too much extra hope. I can only look away from you in the city without you, in the direction away from you, and stand in a row of fences in the distance, leaving loneliness and desolate into a lush green. Without your years, like a roll of ink in the cold river fishing. Lonely, deep; ethereal, long. When I was alone, I like to walk freely in the face of the sky. Any path bends in my own eyes, blows a blow, listens to the deep water, and looks at the sky. With the beautiful hustle and bustle of the deep alley, I came to the silence, the wind opened my long-season heart lake, spread a clear picture, the soft and soft waters of the south of the Yangtze River quietly grow green grass Children, swaying, seemingly fragile, but so tenacioushe top of the mountain, the water of the water, open arms, let the wind blow up three thousand infatuation. Close your eyes Newport 100S, hold your hand and breathe in the wind, look around, still the horizon Marlboro Cigarettes. The hole does not wear the truth of the rush, the endless eyes and clouds, the heart of the heart is full of loss, full of beauty and mourning? I want to read the thoughts in the wind, and let me go through the cold, lonely and persistent thinking of you, but the unruly wind, the thirst for the tourmaline, like the glory of Yunxi, and the intoxicated flowers, the colorful and colorful fairy pavilion, also the heart Zero leaves perched on the mountain life. When you wading through the mountains, the clouds are gone, the flowers are gone, the leaves are gone, the leaves are falling, I am tired, I hope, the wind comes to my side, I will turn the exquisite figure between the branches, and scatter the fragrance of my tree You are so sweet and colorful. Fang Fei was exhausted. In the past, Huarong dripped the rain and danced all over the stunning beauty. With a face and makeup, I sang for myself in the rotation, it was a tree full of flowers; if you are well, it is sunny. In this way, we walk on our own roads and walk in beautiful people. Bring a touch of warm sun, hold a sweet fragrance, let love, in the lonely thoughts of the glory. Related articles: Marlboro Cigarettes