Hordes of people clasp hands and whisper incantations for fanciful guardians residing in the amaranthine void. No ears listen, no eyes see, no hands push pawns on a jagged spherical chess board toward gratifying fates. The pieces witness numbers and probabilities shape the lenses of their retina.
"An answer has been found!" From pitiless trials; eyes wide shut insinuating. A divine hand is the warm winter glove over their shivering hands, when gold chains stop exasperating.
Guardians sit atop the amaranthine void. An abortion of reality, the child is hollow but not in their minds, through their love, their perspective.
Holy elixir to drown his sorrow "Permeate these scars, these fractures inside me"Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
