The old story of missing work My sky looks gray
Which way do I greet
Barred by the hill of rocky walls
Old rhythms bring news
The story is not as funny as it used to be
Put your drum with hammer
Crawling over the cliffs his echoes
Catch your complaining story miss
π‘ β π π π΄π©ππ ππΎπππΎππ πΎπ π·πππ ππΎππ πβππ π π β π‘
Flock of clouds drifted
My sky looks gray
People parade spread the news
Inviting my conscious to find out
The song is not a new song
The singing is still the old
The song is not a new song
The old story of missing work has indeed reached the upstream
Your longing song of sorrow
ππΊ ππ±βΊ ο½ΟΕπ’ Ξπππ αͺβΎΰΉπΕ π½πο½
ΠΌο½Κ³π πππ£ππ²ΕΟπΕ πΌπ
They did not expect to leave
They donβt like crossing it
They donβt ask for unemployment
The blue sound echoes evenly
Your longing song of sorrow
The more melodious the more torturous
The song is not a new song
The singing is still the old
The song is not a new song
β¦β’ πΠ½Ρ ο½αͺπ» π¬π₯γπ£Π α»β± ΠΌβπ¬Εππο½ π¨α»π―ΠΊ Δ§α©s ο½Ξ·βΞ΅πβ Κ³Ρβπ¬αΌαΊΈπ π£Δ€δΉ π¦Ζ€Ρπ½Π³β¬ΰΈβ πβ
My old rhythm brings news
The story is not as funny as it used to be
Catch your complaining story miss
Your singing is blue miss work
The song is not a new song
Your song is still old
The song is not a new song
The old story of missing work is evenly distributed
The song is not a new song
Your song is still old
The song is not a new song
The song of love of missing work has now reached the upstream area