Burning glances nocturnal devotions awaken the dreaming dead bereft of vengeance and in the horizon wraith of a messianic failure false visions moons waning pantheon of obsidian seraphim. Wringing my hands drowns your blessing. A monument to heavens a silhouette of the tired is death the only doorway or just an infinite ending questions and contradictions your sewn mouth secrets I\"ve had all I can stomach my apathy has blinded me casting my failures to the wind and still death waits above and below me.
On the wane this intention lies broken shadows. Wringing my hands drowns your blessing and so it rained fire in light of my reason what have I done to deserve this and so we wept and so we wept and so we wept
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