I am a strange traveler a traveler, a stranger, a window without a window I go with a bag and my tired of tiredness, tired of these moments I call the moments, I dont get my my stories. I am lucky to be lucky
I am hopeful but I am in the inflammation I am in the West Light I hate the vain I am in vain to find the day after the brightly everywhere I say I dont see a stranger I dont see it. My memory tired of tiredness, tired of these moments I count the moments, I dont get
