April 11, 2010
They told me,
The winter of this year,
You have a plan to go somewhere,
Go and see the Ghost Mother and Isabella,
With your favorite hapiness,
And pure California dialect.
When you go away,
The California is left high and dry, my dear Enemy,
When I was eating hapiness alone,
I can not see your smiling face,
quiet moon hanging in the dusky air.
Could you wait for death day.
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