You say that you miss the hands of my hands at night, it is cold, all the moments are in the pain of the yellow flower , you say that you miss the moonlight, the air is the clouds of separation, then I fill your night, it makes us sleep, as if the sound of the ticking of the clock, we forget all the hatred of nostalgia, we easily meet each other, every night, what a small world, how quickly we get lost, but what a dead end, the darkness, you know and I know that this homesickness is a guest tonight , you are tomorrow again, both of us are satisfied with this repetition. In vain, we look for happiness from this game, tomorrow we will fall asleep in the middle of the paper and the single song, as if the sound of the
clock ticking the clock, we forget all the hatred of nostalgia, we easily meet each other, every night, what a small world, how quickly we get lost, but what a dead end, the darkness, you know and I know that home, this homesickness is a guest tonight, you are tomorrow again, both of us are satisfied with this useless repetition, we are looking for happiness from this game. Pay-e-Farda Mayune Paper and Single and Lone Song
