2017年7月21日 晴
When no one by me at Friday night
Singing to the book writer
He was insane but had strange blue eyes
Wild sea wind blows me more insane
Nobody doesn't know -
My long-lasting taste is to live in deep blue
That would cover me from being seen
Being recognized as alive
Or I would be thrown to the beast
That I would be so afraid being prey
I have no beauty to fill up the big stomach
I dare to sink leaving peace on my face
While the book is unwritten
The writer is still in middle from nowhere
