Having visited God's machine of creation
Dead men can master
the language of death
Time deliver us
We come back, reed flowers rise
Tent open for us
Fill fragrance of flowers,the corpse
Chicanery is unification of upper and lower lips
He hide in the dark
Cigarette–end, self–suggestion
You can't write out the last step
Precious experience
No regret day
Is it peace?
Chaotic and indistinct
Intuition lead you to heaven
The voice only belong to God
You have no right to usurp
So you close the lips
Dinch the Cigarette–end
Behind the riddle
Is blank
