The red marks turned into black and then vanished, But I did n0t understand the bitter part of it. When you realize what the time taught you Just like childhood, t’was already all lost. Once I lost a gift and I replaced that with a kind. But the inside rumbles and the face faked. Now tell me, why there is a value to all that wraps, rather than the one that is wrapped. It’s not the final destination that I am afraid of. Even it’s not the rebels whom I care about. But it’s me and my insidious whom I adopt and I fear. Never again it says, that you are driving an engine without back gear.