The silver moon is thirsty, now
the wind are banished all clouds, away.
The gently sky is cutting. How
we can find our desirables way?
The stars are scattered, all of them,
of some elusive rider at the night
and maps are inapplicable, then
we are lost ourselves in to the light.
And like a flower close my leaves,
no one word, no tear /you/can't saw inside,
while the rain days came in real lifes
and they cleaning all of your misreads.
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