A mystical theme run from the hills and sings a lullaby where the winds take them all

in different vile. A
joy of hype has been written. A sincere kind of feeling has been planted in them to grow where many
generations will remember their songs.

Mountains will enquire known stranger where have you been, green trees will query about your destiny
and the innocent animals will whispered you have been missed, why did you take so much time to
reappear. Even those soundless stones will smile on you that you are playing again, rivers will sing a
glory of your time. Countless happiness from them will bring your more pleasure of a homeland. And the
birds will chant your name our friend has back again.

The truth is you are still serving and missed your own town. A pocketful of dreams makes you more
slave day by day. An old mama will never get tired of counting the days of your arrival. She reserved so
many loves inside where tears only pay the debt of her heart. A common story where many sons have
sacrificed their lives in distant lands. Sad but true paper is for a license to kill you.