Doubting the mortals,
Staring at unreality.
These eyes begin to deceive me,
and the brain begins to manipulate the imagination inside.
I don't know what kind of ideology will rise,
Through the mechanism of this system with millions of memory,
if the world still do not have any identity.
Somehow, I ask myself.
Staring at unreality.
These eyes begin to deceive me,
and the brain begins to manipulate the imagination inside.
I don't know what kind of ideology will rise,
Through the mechanism of this system with millions of memory,
if the world still do not have any identity.
Somehow, I ask myself.
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