they`re fucking dead! all of them! cold. caught in surpirse and beaten up to death. ruthlessly! why? dancing along the tunes of funeral march, stab their knifes, carefully. death-fashion clowns, promoters for the cold and empty hearts. say, can`t you see what makes them blind? what stands behind? Better think. consuming death of those who were ment to live, to laugh and cry like all we do. stretching greedy arm, steping over corpse to reach the god, different. the one who owns the wealth and power to enslave and rule, everyone. watch different, deeper than they want you to believe, through. fur is dead
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