She said he couldn’t find the right man
So would rather not understand pretend to understand money rush
Buy from the hope and sell from the regret
Come and go free and never wait for your voice
The bitter neon lights of the bar
Let him forget he’s in the red for a while
Wanton shakes the illusion attached to each strategy
Where are the gods good enough
No miracle happens
He had to take advantage of the liquor to release his sincerity
Gaze at each argument deliberately but only see oneself also not enough consciousness
Pushed open the closed market in the night to wipe the tears on his face
Then gallop at the strange end of the heights
Until the world forgot about him