Medicine reviving all the ailed and wounded Barrels of antidote thick bright liquid.
And behind the wash they fall in overwhelming relief. The cured ones float; viscous pool of sunset Overflowing, flowing over, one upon the other.
Yes, yes, yes! Like from your land that gave birth to you, Aster! Bellowing river - a new tributary! Here we have made medicine.
Painter's stroke, stroke of an artist I am the hand, you the brush.
Textured brilliance The parchment the ground they cover. Blind eyes opened -- Beautiful and bright, wide with new, healed knowledge. Turgid minds bombarded Soaked in the bright of the earth's new light. Almost golden, the sky reflects Massengrab regen bogen.
My tool of intention, my tool of incantation Help to cleanse away woes, as it was said. Facets of iridescent hills, Behind them faces, Glowing and shimmering the veil.
Under facets, faces The hills donned in crowds of color Painted souls are just the start
Out of blank the currents rise And the one called appears Summoning the summoned The haze rolls in exhaling him Singular expansion The aid from above, from both of us
Painted souls are just the start of what we could restore. Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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