The lyrics of Vae's "Book of Constellations" need a full version, urgent!

The starlight lit up the sea and wrinkled up, and the evening breeze blew away the salty waste heat around you and me. There are still cracks. Why does it feel a little strange to run along the coast to find our island? Some question marks may not be important to you, but I haven't talked about it for a long time. I haven't hugged you for a long time. The book says that we are not Taurus, and I don't deserve you. On second thought, I may happen to be ours. How does the story writer understand it? Finally, I secretly tore up the page. True love is unpredictable. Why should I let you know, even if you had known to run along the coast to find our island (to be continued, the space here is too long to submit)?