A dead corpse, of fur and stripes.
The swallow flies high, for the fire.
The home of secrets and secluded. He is vicious in his own right.
The acquaintance of many memories, is the holder of untruthful speaking.
Why me?
Rotten fur, dead corpse, with stripes.
The domain of secrets and secluded. He is vicious in his own right.
swallow flies high above the skin and rot, the blade of slime and carn. Unholy water, lay beyond the trees, he is vicious in his own right.

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