Where is my soul to rest in it?
Down a main street, through a tower, in addition to downtown, only noise.
How many bridges in this city? Each under a flyover, vehicles as swiftly: Chung as floods go, the speakers sound loud now, I have to hear the sound insensitive, but heart and ran with this flood, no matter where, until I tired of falling from the sky.
Fall silently, no bottom.
Where is my soul to rest in it?
By Street, was tall, was on earth the soul of Squeeze was no place to hide, so shout themselves hoarse shouting.
Perhaps life is just to an unknown destination. Go, where to rest.
Life elsewhere.
Rushing. Search. Non-stop pace.
Leave time and time again, again and again to return. Cycle.
Hope to go far, looking forward to go further
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