There's a wickedness that's in my blood. The precognition of what a terrible mess I'll become. To my dismay I found that a tired tongue won't resonate beyond the heresy that I impose. But I couldn't kill a radiant thing. Tear out my eyes. Render me blind. Deliverance lies in the absence of my mind. Take a breath. Try and pretend you didn't hear a thing. By design I am fated to rely on what I know. To define the endless line of what I don't. And does the application of your moral code alleviate the overwhelming fear of imminent death. How could you take a radiant thing. If you wanna take a radiant thing then come and get it.
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