TITAN - Proceed | Текст песни

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• TITAN
• Proceed

Duty. The trip through fields.
Reminders of his own life past due.
Not left to rot. Mortal remains.
Faces frozen, before,
Ignored,
now staring forward.
Upward to God,
or heaven (they should hope).
“Thank God for the breeze,
for it the smell should hit me...”

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