then a fast car comes after me, a trap?
When the wind blows, I go, If I don't go,
something would happen to me, I know.
The wind, the new roads, that movement
such a innocent.
Memories, the water that I sometimes drink
willingly, sometimes compulsorily,
sometimes sweet sometimes bitterly.
the memories that make me drunk.
The remedy of the soul that
rocks in the blank...
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