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Inhale the mist,
that flows down to the cliff
through the gray plains.
A flare will come to blind your throat
saturated with blood of the forest trees,
it will pour perception down into your insides,
until you exhale your last breath,
upriver and return to the source.
Shortly after you’ve grasped onto the helm
I’ll destroy the mast of our sailing ship
Entangleing it between the highest branches,
of the dense forest.
Trapped in the vortex
we will descend from the ship
to walk towards the black
to walk towards darkness.

Text přidal roman59

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Je zde něco špatně?
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We Are Certainly Not Made Of Flesh

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