All are lonely, but they fantasize about friendship, love and affection.
The world takes fame and wealth as the goal, and uses it as a ladder to measure others.
Born without a point, the death of all the struggle into foam.
The world has its own thoughts, is it lucky? It's sad.
The pursuit of other people's expectations, let everyone in the endless mire of desire.
You silly fool will not laugh at me crazy, I may agree, is an abyss in sludge a ghost, a loach.