You see angels descending from the door of the plane, the flashing lights capture the dying half-life, as if the sea overflows the years of virginity; and can you distinguish the calling in your ear, which year's ghost is hidden? The night has always needed candles, magnesium lamps, and phonics, wearing masks, painting feathers, mixing juniper berries and champagne, and taking off every sadness of life. If the dawn finally comes, please allow the only body to spend the night in the ruined and decaying castle, with the eyes of beautiful girls stranded on the walls. Every generation, dabbling in dangerous rain, is a miracle of childhood; the phone beside the bed, the brown typewriter, what code should be typed to dial a memory that is almost forgotten?
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