The surface of the water keeps rising, and I keep building up my residence;
it doesn't stop, I can't bear to look down, watching the broken walls submerged by the water.
Time keeps flowing, and I keep walking on my way,
without stopping, I can't bear Looking back, looking at the scattered memories that have been taken away by time
, I always want to go back, not for memories, not for regrets, but for the watch that has been with me all my life, which was given by my mother. The watch that my mother left to me is lying quietly in the depths of the water.
I should go back.
It turned out that underwater, with my warmth, memories also lie quietly.
I smiled and raised the glass to her,
and the flowing water also took away my tears. . . . . .
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