一在荆棘中行走,男人不言痛。只是长刺的事物在我的年代具有了丰富的技术:我热爱的真理淹没在广告中;我迷恋的忠诚和智慧,成为日常的刚愎自用和阴谋;而友谊和爱情一直坐在台下,它们在聆听欲望的演讲。我知道的确实还更多。荆棘划破我的皮肤,几片创可贴就行。深夜,自斟自饮,男人,不受伤。二不需要金灿灿的铜号,系着红布条的那种。仿佛把声音吹成冲锋,我怀念童年的苇笛,抒情的或迷 A walking in the thorns, men do not say pain. It is only prickly things that were rich in technology in my time: the truths I loved were submerged in advertising; my obsession with loyalty and wisdom became routine and conspiracy; and friendship and love remained with the audience Listen to the speech of desire. I know it really more. Thorns cut through my skin, a few pieces of Band-Aid on the line. Late at night, pour drink, man, not hurt. Two do not need golden bronze, tied with the kind of red cloth. As if to blow the sound charge, I miss the childhood reed flute, lyrical or fan