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风疏狂的脸上，是一日既往面对大众时的冷漠。
连想的脑中，只剩一段旋律，低沉的嗓音，小小的走音，小心翼翼的试探，和无尽的真诚。
Some say love it is a river
That drowns the tender reed。
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed。
Some say love it is a hunger
An endless； aching need
I say love it is a flower；
And you it's only seed。
It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken；
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live。
And the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long。
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong。
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun's love；
In the spring； bees a rose
直射入台下风疏狂的深邃瞳孔中，连想觉得，自己就能看见永远。