im a 69 years old father who lost his son when i was 6.9 years old .... nah im just joking but this game is great you must try it
edit :
I dreamed that someone was comingI dreamed of a red starAnd my eyelidsarejumpingAndmyshoesblindIfIlieIdreamed of that red starI have seen when I was not asleepsomeoneiscomingsomeone is comingsomeone elsesomeone betterSomeone who is not like anyone, not likeafather, like AnsiIt's not, it's not like Yahya, it's not like motherAnd that's who he should beAnd it is taller than thetrees in the architect's houseand his faceBrighter than the face of Imam ZamanAnd also from Seyed Javad'sbrotherthat is goneAnd he is wearing a police uniform, he is not afraidAnd from Seyed Javad himself, all the rooms in our houseHe is not afraidAnd her name is like motherIt sounds at the beginning of prayer and at the end of prayeor the judgesor needsAnd it canAll the difficult words of the third grade bookRead with closed eyesAnd it can even be a thousandTake from twenty million without reducingAnd he can buy whatever he needs from Seyed Javad's shopTake a loanand can make the "Allah" lamwhichwas green: it was green like dawn.Again in the sky of MiftianMosqueBeturned onAh...How good the light isHow good the light isAnd how much I want itthat Yahyahave abicycleAnd a bee lamAnd how much I want itonYahya's wheel among watermelons and melonsto sitand go aroundMohammadiye Squareah...How good it is tospin around the fieldHow nice it is to sleep on the roofHow nice to go to the National GardenHow good Fardin cinema isAnd how I like all good thingsAnd how much I want itTo kill Seyed Javad's daughter's hairWhy am I sosmalIget lost in the street is the father not so small?And it doesn't get lost in the streetsand the people of the slaughterhouse neighborhood the soles of their shoesarebloodyWhy don't they do anything?Why don't they do anything? I have washed thewindows.Why should father onlyIn a dream, dreamI have swept the roof stairssomeone is comingsomeone is comingThe one who is with us in his heart, with us in his breatHis voice is with usTheone who camcan't be takenAnd handcuffed and put in prisoThe one who gave birth under the old Yahya treesAnd day by dayIt grows, it grows.I have dreamed...

im a 69 years old father who lost his son when i was 6.9 years old .... nah im just joking but this game is great you must try it edit : I dreamed that someone was comingI dreamed of a red starAnd my eyelidsarejumpingAndmyshoesblindIfIlieIdreamed of that red starI have seen when I was not asleepsomeoneiscomingsomeone is comingsomeone elsesomeone betterSomeone who is not like anyone, not likeafather, like AnsiIt's not, it's not like Yahya, it's not like motherAnd that's who he should beAnd it is taller than thetrees in the architect's houseand his faceBrighter than the face of Imam ZamanAnd also from Seyed Javad'sbrotherthat is goneAnd he is wearing a police uniform, he is not afraidAnd from Seyed Javad himself, all the rooms in our houseHe is not afraidAnd her name is like motherIt sounds at the beginning of prayer and at the end of prayeor the judgesor needsAnd it canAll the difficult words of the third grade bookRead with closed eyesAnd it can even be a thousandTake from twenty million without reducingAnd he can buy whatever he needs from Seyed Javad's shopTake a loanand can make the "Allah" lamwhichwas green: it was green like dawn.Again in the sky of MiftianMosqueBeturned onAh...How good the light isHow good the light isAnd how much I want itthat Yahyahave abicycleAnd a bee lamAnd how much I want itonYahya's wheel among watermelons and melonsto sitand go aroundMohammadiye Squareah...How good it is tospin around the fieldHow nice it is to sleep on the roofHow nice to go to the National GardenHow good Fardin cinema isAnd how I like all good thingsAnd how much I want itTo kill Seyed Javad's daughter's hairWhy am I sosmalIget lost in the street is the father not so small?And it doesn't get lost in the streetsand the people of the slaughterhouse neighborhood the soles of their shoesarebloodyWhy don't they do anything?Why don't they do anything? I have washed thewindows.Why should father onlyIn a dream, dreamI have swept the roof stairssomeone is comingsomeone is comingThe one who is with us in his heart, with us in his breatHis voice is with usTheone who camcan't be takenAnd handcuffed and put in prisoThe one who gave birth under the old Yahya treesAnd day by dayIt grows, it grows.I have dreamed...