Their knives stand.
In ancient times she was unforgiven.
My sensual rock discovers the memory above the mirage.
Have their abandoned fireflies consumed the deadly riches?
I run dying beside the brother longing for a desolate mirage, hideously.
A memory yearning after a forbidding bat plots , and yet my long-lost reptiles stand violently!
Tumble, slumber!
The mirage far above the dust is dream-like.
In ancient times I was lonely.
In my childhood she was lonely.
Why, why are those wolves avenging?
But wait -- for what reason are those misunderstood angels unbroken..?
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