黑色文学翅膀 Black literature wings 作词：YL 作曲：SAM WONG/NI-CO/文汉武 编曲：SAM WONG/NI-CO/文汉武 制作人：YL/SAM WONG 演唱：这首歌我是要写给Jess Lee李佳薇的。

黑色文学翅膀 Black literature wings
作词：YL
作曲：SAM WONG/NI-CO/文汉武
编曲：SAM WONG/NI-CO/文汉武
制作人：YL/SAM WONG
演唱：这首歌我是要写给Jess Lee李佳薇的。

暗藏

有一点粉碎的骨头在摸臀上 掉一滴泪 掉落的无霜
成为了世上的遗憾 变成了我的物品历史概念学问之身价
好看的华年月问品 摆在博物馆 看似有点安葬质地
每一个标点符号分成了几种商品 好的学问 要记得起 问我是否
知道这暗藏的地方在哪里

密斯

佛罗里达的一件成文工具放在一间小屋里 多少的古文和中核远古
似乎都不强劲 带点文艺和创作的分隔线里 不成密斯的壮观华仁温语的世界暴风情报 上登月刊里 这是一种迷死的物秘长处之声原地 放开了我们的摸索和长处置身唯物平砍到死了置地
多少遗憾的风俗和古文被躲藏冒犯的每一程相处都似乎砍劈

黑色文学

调制的黑色 有一种死念都不成我的缘分生命一度再度冒汗 血污常色 北纬家暴成无不神色
有年之藏的复古和终年都盖在一片死海里 放开所有疲惫 对着望台看黑色的漩涡触犯我们的
天文历史重演 到那似乎不见得我的疲惫和懦弱都变成了黑色冒犯成品 一种突兀防备 绝不往哪方向走去 看我的一眼都觉得泪飘了散了

文学翅膀

麻痹了我的包容和范围 觉悟的时刻倒是我要去的一天 快老了 每一双翅膀都承载我的苦痛
和容纳范围里 那徒步的现象一觉逃往我的捆绑和寂寞乌鸦叫开我的飞拓和敏感理智冒然无不神色走了样 歧途盛开的风霜变成了死去的翅膀都不带我飞翔 那绝望不堪一击的触犯了眉头
和长相超图


Hidden

A little smashed bone is touching the buttocks, a drop of tears, falling frost-free
Becoming a regret in the world has become the value of my article history concept
Good-looking Chinese New Year’s question, placed in the museum, looks like a little burial texture.
Every punctuation is divided into several commodities. Good learning. Remember to ask if I am
Know where this hidden place is


Mies

A written tool in Florida is placed in a small house. How many ancient and central nuclear ancients
It seems that there is no strong literary and creative separation line. It’s not the fascinating Huaren Wen’s world storm information. It’s a kind of fascinating secret. The sound of the secrets has let go of our exploration and Long disposal body material flat cut to death land
How many regrets and customs are hidden from each other.

Black literature

Modulated black There is a kind of death that is not my fate. Once again, I sweat again. Bloody color is normal.
The vintage and the year of the year are covered in a dead sea. Let go of all the fatigue. Watch the black whirlpool against the watch tower.
Astronomical history repeats itself. It seems that the exhaustion and weakness of my eyes have turned into black offensive products. A sudden defense. I will never go in any direction. I feel tears in my eyes.


Literary wings

I am paralyzed by my tolerance and scope. The moment of enlightenment is the day I am going. It’s getting old. Every pair of wings bears my pain.
And the phenomenon of hiking in the accommodating range fled to my bundle and lonely crows called my fly and sensitive sensibility, and looked astray. The wind and frost that turned into a dead wind turned into a dead wing without taking me to fly. Desperate and battered
And appearance super