The cycle turing in the colored wind
Does not betray the beauty of a blushing cheek
Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh
You won't leave me at the mercy of the gathering dark.
When in the end we see it was all really nothing
And our sins are called forth to be accounted
You will be there, blood of my blood
You will be there, flesh of my flesh.
Together we shall fight every war at once.
And win.
No comments:
Post a Comment