Tomorrow’s story is all mine, it’s mineI’ve learned to choose my so-called happiness
The silhouette of your back is so far away it’s like fogI won’t turn back anymoreWhen my footsteps were tied down by the memoriesI ran across the desert
I don’t want to become so small that I am unable to find myselfIt’s as if I’ve been placed in someone’s pocket, without the sky
Tomorrow’s story is all mine, it’s mineThere is more than one type of so-called happinessThe beautiful spring, summer, autumn, winter, and falling leaves are mineI only understand what a dream is after experiencing it for myself
The silhouette of your back is so far away it’s like fogI won’t turn back anymoreWhen my footsteps were tied down by the memoriesI ran across the desert
I don’t want to become so small that I am unable to find myselfIt’s as if I’ve been placed in someone’s pocket, without the sky
Tomorrow’s story is all mine, it’s mineThere is more than one type of so-called happinessThe beautiful spring, summer, autumn, winter, and falling leaves are mineI only understand what a dream is after experiencing it for myself
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