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Death is nothing more than hiding oneself and oneself through the road of nostalgia A pile of cultured earth Qingming from the soul to the soul ancestor circle on the closed loop in another world's blackboard full of formulas

author:Kunlun Barefoot Immortal

Death

But it is through the road of nostalgia

Hide yourself and your time

grave

A pile of cultured soil

Clear

From soul to soul

The circle of ancestors is closed-loop

On the blackboard of another world

Full of formulas and answers

Years and years

In the drizzle of the bright time of the season

Children and grandchildren who calibrate the radius of life

Incense was burned again and again in front of the tomb

The clarity of this life and this life

Death is nothing more than hiding oneself and oneself through the road of nostalgia A pile of cultured earth Qingming from the soul to the soul ancestor circle on the closed loop in another world's blackboard full of formulas
Death is nothing more than hiding oneself and oneself through the road of nostalgia A pile of cultured earth Qingming from the soul to the soul ancestor circle on the closed loop in another world's blackboard full of formulas
Death is nothing more than hiding oneself and oneself through the road of nostalgia A pile of cultured earth Qingming from the soul to the soul ancestor circle on the closed loop in another world's blackboard full of formulas

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