2011-04-22 00:15:53 ET

Under the moon I stared into the minds of silver armoured guardians of the tragically sealed fates and tasted the wants for a better tomorrow's bridging the gap between reason and uncomfortable surrender. To bare the cross of losing my mind, a price paid in full-time insanity I change my pace to keep up a withdrawn dance of the dead. Lost souls are sons And daughters, mothers and fathers, anguished as they sing of torment in an angelic unison that screams no repentance before the grave. So silk lain is the burial shroud that scares me to suffocating degrees. I swear it by the hand of Gaia I will find peace in creation or perish in selfish destruction. By the power of 3 times 3 as we are so shall it be.

2011-04-22 04:28:35 ET


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