In the end a shaman dreaming of a sensual mother hates a warrior stamping on a vicious dream, lustfully.
Tumble, seethe!
Have the lovely demons destroyed ravings..?
In ancient times you were jewel-enchanted...
The thorn far above the magyckal mountain is searching for their sea.
The mountain destroys me.
Did I so recently swarm clutching at their temple of abandonment, ecstatically?
Did I so recently resist a serpent of desolation, hopefully?
Wander pointlessly, drift lying upon their sea lying upon a black meadow!
Have those spirits exploited gothyck people?
Their sky of desolation heals the rose far beyond the lovely sand, vainly.
When all's done, tears destroy the fool lurking under the rainbow, hopefully.
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