Return of the lake

Laifeng Ancient station, the river is not clear, fish thin

The Diaojiaolou of a 12-year-old bun

The dust flew on the bridge, and flew into the window of the grandmother.

I have a tray of buns

Lying at three o'clock in the morning, the pillow is the month

The dream is scattered on the road, like falling night Sakura

Father and mother said, the lake is waiting for me

So I melted the old station.

Poured into every hair of mine, the blood tubes and the hairs.

When she left, the girl had no wine.

Thousands of nights.

There's always a wild light in his city.

And the night with the dry eyes

I don't know why I cry during the day

The so-called Lake

When the sun is big, the darkness in the window

To see my eyes.

Like a wildcat.

The so-called Lake

Is the train squeeze the rail

I keep my spine close to the wall

To wring the shaking dry

Where there are people, there are rivers and lakes

The father's palm is the same

But I'm not an oriental undefeated.

Who accidentally put home into the Xiangjiang River

Maybe Grandpa Mao just saw it passing north.

Maybe the flowers have stopped it.

Let's go

We'll salvage it together.

Son, eat one of those stuffed buns.

I want to go home now.

Return of the lake