This is the third Saturday you left. I ate two glasses of beer and smoked half my hand. After you move out, I will always wait for you downstairs in your apartment. It's three o'clock in the morning, and I have a headache. A lonely cigarette lights an empty night. I forgot to accept the sheets you hung, and my shirt is a little wrinkled. Starting from tomorrow, how will I face it without you? Those beautiful pictures will be played over and over again. But how can I piece together such a beautiful baby love after a broken heart? I only blame that moment for talking too much. All the plots are out of control. Baby baby's love should be so beautiful. You give too much. Now I understand that only three o'clock in the morning (rap) is accompanied by cigarettes and alcohol. It's three o'clock in the morning and my head hurts a little. You forgot to collect the sheets you hung, and your shirt that you didn't iron is a little wrinkled. Starting from tomorrow, how will I face the future without you? There is still your fragrance in the messy room, which can't stop your unique smile. If time goes back, I won't let you go again. Some things have to be desperate to see through.