But when I saw you last night, you stopped to say hello to me.
Hold my hand tightly and wish me all the best. I
don't understand why, your touch makes me The tears flowed down.
You can’t see it, I kept crying these days.
For you. Cry. For you. You said goodbye.
I stood there alone, crying alone... crying...
because you don’t love me, I will cry forever, for you...
now you are gone, from this moment on, I will cry... weep..."
The showgirl of "Los Angeles Weepers"
fell down, and the singing is still endless. .
You are dead, still looking forward to flying in your dreams.
Because.
That song was recorded and has nothing to do with the singer.
My love is forever, it has nothing to do with you.
I asked myself:
Why do people always stubbornly believe that there is a soul after death?
No one says that a green grass has a soul.
Because no one loves it, because only the loved one has a soul.
The soul of the dead is the love of the living.
And it’s not the first time that I have dreamed of you. I have had many daydreams before.
Thinking of you late at night, I can't sleep lonely.
I sit on the sofa, dreaming that you are by my side.
You lie in my arms, we read, talk, and kiss.
I stretched out my hand to the emptiness of darkness, pretending that there was your silhouette there.
You look at me tenderly, turning your face to the palm of my hand like a kitten.
beauty, I am talking to myself, you are really beautiful.
I know very well that you are actually lying on someone else's bed at this time.
You have another lover, you want to marry him, you want to leave me.
But I don't want to believe it, I would rather love you in my illusion and satisfy myself.
Let me indulge in the scenes I made, and perform a one-man show in it.
Talk to you, quarrel with you, pester with you.
Why didn't the directors choose me as the protagonist?
I'm an amazing actor, I can even fool myself.
I am a great player, playing a cello that does not exist all day long.
Don't say that I deceive myself, no one is deceiving myself.
If the soul can be real, then why can't dreams be real.
Dream and reality, night and day, what is true or false? They are the poles of time.
In this pole, I killed you.
In the other pole, let us be together forever.
And I finally woke up.
Wake up from all the sweetness, sadness, panic, and confusion.
I can no longer distinguish between dreams and reality.
The world with you is real, isn't it?
When you are gone, this extreme world will disappear.
Your death announced the end of this world.
Your death exposed the falsehood of this world.
Love is fake. Dreams are fake.
Everything you hear is recorded in advance.
Everything you see is an illusion.
I choose to invest in reality.
I chose to die from the truth.
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