This is tomorrow. This is today. The one that meets at the middle are nothingness in spawn. Made the ghost cries of sold madness. And the wolves dances with trolls. Are the evening cleared? The kidneys wait and test on mere strings of wondering.. and wandering.. and chimneys of salt trembles to the end of any subconsciousness alert.. alarmed.. surprised by the sound of time creaking to oblivion.. hurray!
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