"Twelfth Month Twenty-Fifth · The Lament of Ethereum"

Eight years holding, the horizon is vast and uncertain, I can't think about it, yet it's hard to forget. Thousands of upgrades, nowhere to express the desolation. Even if the bull comes, it might not recognize me, tears on my face, hair like frost.
In the night, a ghostly dream suddenly returns home, opening trades, watching K-line panic. The fleeting shadow of the peak, when will it shine again? Expecting every year at the heartbreak spot, 1900, lying here desperately.