Why be outraged now That dead men take no umbrage? Adulorum Claymore.
Some heritages Are far crunchier than mere Petaliphagy.
The blue wind sings Time's own dirge, lying at rest In a turtle's eye. Tearscapes Pass the cup of your Sadness: it runs like fall dreams Through silent fingers.
The blue wind sings Time's own dirge, lying at rest In a turtle's eye.
Pass the cup of your Sadness: it runs like fall dreams Through silent fingers.
