With a twist of my finger, the fish in the quicksand pool splashed, waiting for me to get drunk and cut off the sunset glow with a sword.
Dreaming that Zijin Daifeng approved yarn, Huang Liang's dream was too illusory and exaggerated.
Gossip, spend the winter in a cloth, and when I succeed, I will be fat in the western hills.
On the basis of wine, the world cries for tea, and the bright moon invites the window, so it is chic.
I'm drunk, and the prodigal son has no money to eat out.
Sighing that the years are like yellow flowers, asking the sky is unanswered.
I'm drunk, and the prodigal son has no money to eat out.
Whoever smells the pipa paints is no longer like the spring breeze, like the western Western jackdaw.
I have drunk the wind, swallowed the sand, and I have wandered the world.
Sighing that the years are like yellow flowers, asking the sky is unanswered.
I'm drunk, and the prodigal son has no money to eat out.
Whoever smells the pipa paints is no longer like the spring breeze, like the western Western jackdaw.
I have drunk the wind, swallowed the sand, and I have wandered the world.
Sighing that the years are like yellow flowers, asking the sky is unanswered.
Extended data
Appreciate:
This is a love song by Hua Tuo. Judging from the title of the song, it's a bit trite. But the charm of music, or the lethality of songs, can be scary sometimes.
Some melodies and lyrics of songs, coupled with the closure of the singer's vocal cords, will make people who have always seemed tough become timid. There are no screams and shouts, no thunder and heavy rain, only tears that suddenly shed uncontrollably.