Stock dreams are lead to me, re-up-rise, and freed to be slain, slaves, killed as braves – the heart rendered open, lies open, to grave, masters breaking free, my heart is a weapon that they only see, lead to me my own mount and fear vision of grind, the world a heartbeat and my mind on my sleeve.  Tear it right off, it’s not too insane, leave me in troth, a sloth of this game. There I am to see, miserable lights, glaring at me.  But here we go now, the goth has his tree, as free as I am, am here left to run as a serpent king set free.  The technique is imperative, and vital to the core, of the message of what’s spoken, communication is no whore.  Love her like your queen, and be beauty to her dreams. Learn the words unspoken, the gospel in between.  Slivers like saliva, my mind it breaks to be.  Renew the world of innocence, and let her be your queen. She like fire, and cooler than soft, my ring breaks free from this world… undone my lovely moth.


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