Between the sunset's bloodstained veil, Thy horned prospect reflects on me. The he Cried through beads of mirrored tears It fills the air ! An atmosphere that hath no key. I'm disguised by the kindle of nite and I can fill your liquid, glass heart Grasp your cold I'm in the circle and I am the shell that granted you the horns of All A fixed, startless vision and a sullen fabrication cursed the Sun of which our lustful ways are performed. Half of me is all of her Hath no shower, hath no sol Half of me is all of her Hath no shower, hath no sol Half of me is all of her Hath no shower, hath no sol Akhera Akhera Fantasies I realized Dance of thorns, I thrive For below the great abyss is a virtue contained in itself. "We shall eagerly expect one black opalith for tomorrow.".
האתר פועל ברישיון אקו"ם
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