Watching the young brother next to me holding binoculars,
“Excuse me, are you a die-hard fan?”
“Brother, I’m a fake fan, my girlfriend is the die-hard fan”
“Ohhh~~~, then I’m also a fake fan. I can’t sing many songs”
“Brother, me neither”
“Ohhh~~~”
As a result,
From the first song to the last,
I carried a DSLR to record the concert all night, but all I captured was the voice of the guy next to me,
His girlfriend also recorded all night, her camera pointing at her boyfriend next to her,
Turns out everyone was a fake fan,

Always felt like I,
Was not a suitable Mayday fan,
Unlike the lovely people around me who sang along from the first song to the last,
Just sitting quietly and listening,
The hundred-thousand-person chorus of “Love Ing”,
Raising my phone as a glow stick’s gentleness,
Following the encore, encore, to the last song,

In that summer that others can’t reach,
Wind and rain fall, years and hardships carved,
Please take care,
We ourselves are the audience,,,
Please don’t disturb,
Those lovers’ gentleness,,,