I remember the beat of the last time. For the sake of one life, one life that returns to the earth. The lips that connect lies and kindness. The kindness and hatred behind. This eye, looking at the rotten ground, immediately forgets us. These feet, regardless of will, move meaninglessly. To the people who forgot to stop, fear and anxiety always gather together. The wind of sadness that resounds in the world full of sadness. People who turn all lies into ambitions. To whom does that ambition reach? It enters from our wound. The wound will not heal. The fact that we are about to die is in this chest. A lie to hide the lies of those who have the right to know. Our eyes degenerate. The duty to spread the wound. The soil to fill the lies. The wound gives birth to a seed. The medicine of the blind. The person who forgot the word shame. I look at myself being filled with a grayish wind and becoming righteous. I forgot to use my eyes. The fact that I can judge with my degenerated eyes and invisible eyes. To be forgiven, along with the grayish wind, in the cold soil, is to pretend to be dead. To be healed forever.