Rest place
Old golden tree in the cornner of my teacher horse
Giving a good sign for my torture hopely not a rose
Ten pairs of branch dancing as the wind blow
And the shine moving with the tempo of leaves flow
Crowded hugging the lonely sinking
Cannot forget the swear my mother wondering
Resign my self and drown offer my thinking
Step by step my sweat was leaking
Thought My self have to be free
so I went by My self and sit the seat under that tree