Lonely as yesterday.

Listening to music, a little sad the remote close to my heart, and memories of the songs blend in, the holding in the face of pain, I could not shake off. Quiet room, the voice of the percussion show has a story ... ... ... ... can not be recalled once! Looking back over that past events like the wind drifting away from the inter-fat, in addition to memory, there is no noise. From time to lift our heads to look at the eyes of the stream, not in a happy, not in the face, such as yesterday lonely, lonely, like yesterday. Like to find a reason to tell me that this is life, without him, this is life. Dream of living under the same walk in the footsteps of. Strings and cross strings, such as the finger at the apex tactfully draw on the move, the move may seem quiet, the pain seems like music with eyes closed ... ... ... ... I can not escape. Music, I would actually shed tears. Then an a. Do not cry, do not cry, even if those dreams fall will be surrounded me, the voice of those who ran as quiet v. ... ...