How much regret in the end to swing on a tragic scale pen? In the end how much to debit the memory of a soft string sound? Tonight, I just closed that window will shut out all the hustle and bustle of downtown. When a piece of paper near my Xiaosheng apical quietly, and I remember the tears will fall into the quagmire. Bent down to hide his emotions, inadvertently picked up the feelings of our pieces together. This night, lonely too warm.
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