Surrounding interest to dying,
will to escape instead.
This angel*s stiff wings gave up flying,
Cleared the power to spread
I heard, what*s been talked in the future,
Grotesque mirrors, but no reflection.
Fest to the great warriors who died,
Weren*t you just trapped in their polution?
They spoke in whispering language,
Could harldy understand.
But what was sayd, punched my soul.
In apocalypse we all would strand...
...and end.
Where these angels gave up,
The words move but stuck,
Believed no more faith,
became the devil*s bate.
soon or sooner we*ll all die...
__________________
Strong enough to live by the sword
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