Singing: Hugh

The years are rarely silent, and the autumn wind is tired of drifting.

The sunset lingers on the wall, and I can't bear it.

What used to be in the ears of Iraqis has flowed eastward with the tide.

Looking back, it also fell with the maple leaves.

Love has come to an end, and hate has given up its promise.

Fate thinks too much, and humor is not for me to decide.

Top gun is a bit worrying. It's hard to be with a few people.

Looking back, I heard laughter, which spread to my drunken dream.

Laughing and sighing, the past poverty and the present madness will eventually become empty.

A dull knife is useless, and dreams are broken.

The road is barren and no one understands.

I have longed for it for many years.

I didn't see through the world of mortals.

Self-deprecating ink is full of grievances and worries.

At the end of the song, people are scattered, and the temples are white and red.

Candles are still awake, competing with the sun for glory, but getting thinner.

When tears run dry, blood gushes.

All the snow is empty.

Love has come to an end, and hate has given up its promise.

Fate believes in humor and thinks too much.

This is not for me to decide.

Top gun is a little sad.

It is difficult for several people to keep a bosom friend.

Looking back, I heard laughter, which spread to my drunken dream.

Laughing and sighing, the past poverty and the present madness will eventually become empty.

A dull knife is useless, and dreams are broken.

The road is barren and no one understands.

I have longed for it for many years.

I didn't see through the world of mortals.

Self-deprecating ink is full of grievances and worries.

At the end of the song, people are scattered, and the temples are white and red.

Candles are still awake, competing with the sun for glory, but getting thinner.

When tears run dry, blood gushes.

All the snow is empty.

Laughing and sighing, the past poverty and the present madness will eventually become empty.

A dull knife is useless, and dreams are broken.

The road is barren and no one understands.

I have longed for it for many years.

I didn't see through the world of mortals.

Self-deprecating ink is full of grievances and worries.

At the end of the song, people are scattered, and the temples are white and red.

Candles are still awake, competing with the sun for glory, but getting thinner.

When tears run dry, blood gushes.

All the snow is empty.