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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-24 | |
Silent and red
With bloody, flashlit intersections The town awaits; dark and heavy, The cloak of nighttime lies spread Over our souls; dim traces of sunlight Expire slowly in a dusty corner As shadows bloom... And never again Will the sun rise like yesterday Such a gain, such a loss - Atrocious silver crosses cry their sparks for piety on pagan chests, and fade into the darkness awaiting a morning that refuses to come.
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