Do you have a lot of question marks,
my children, why are people watching comics there,
I am learning to draw, talking to the piano,
others are playing games, but I am leaning against the wall and carrying my ABC
I said I wanted a big plane
but got an old recorder.
Why should I listen to my mother?
You will start to understand this when you grow up
When I grew up, I started to understand
why I ran faster than others, flying faster than others. In the
future, everyone
reads the cartoons I drew, and everyone sings the songs I wrote.
Mom’s hard work won’t let you see the
warm recipe in her heart.
time, hold her hand
handle holding together sleepwalking
listen to her mother, then do not let her get hurt
wanted to grow up quickly in order to protect her
beautiful white hair happiness sprouting
magic warm angel in kind
In your future music is your trump card.
Take the trump card and fall in love.
Oh, I don’t want to teach you bad
or listen to my mom. I will fall in love later.
I know your future, but mom knows better than me.
You will start imitating friends and write things in the bag
but I suggest the best mother I will study hard to write
study hard, how does that come from my mouth
do not want you to lose so I'll study hard, you
mother gave you, you have to take a sweater the income
because Mother's Day I want to tell her that I still have it
on my encounter Chow Yun-fat
so you can show off with the students God of Gamblers will be your father
I can’t find the love letter I wrote in my childhood.
Don’t give
it away after you write it because after two days you will pick it up on the playground and
you will start to like pop songs
because Jacky Cheung starts to sing kisses
Listen to my mother, don’t hurt her, and
grow up quickly to protect her
beautiful white hair, the magical warmth of the budding angel in happiness
Listen to mom’s words, don’t hurt her, just
grow up to protect her
When I grew up, I began to understand
why I ran faster than others, and ran faster than others. In the
future, everyone
reads the cartoons I drew, and everyone sings the songs I wrote.
Mom’s hard work won’t let you see the
warm recipe in her heart.
time, hold her hand
handle holding together sleepwalking
Listen to my mother, don’t hurt her, and
grow up quickly to protect her
beautiful white hair, the magical warmth of the budding angel in happiness
Sig:Peter Chen Dukang