On the bottom of the black ocean.
Their infinity is but a vague intellect.
An abyss is his hands. far from the house of black souls
To fly and grasp the eternity. night, as a death of the flesh.
Poison sucking the liquids of life.
Black flame in the veins, crushed in the dead ravines.
Burnt feathers would fall out as a blackest rain.
Fly high, the bird of death and beginning of the new stars.
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