Wretched souls! Within the flames of hell ye all shall burn!
As the bells toll, judgement greet upon ye.
Life fell feeble, but thee is it not.
All to care are fame and gold, proven wrong I have not.
You feed of only through crimson red windows.
Flung away is what thy hearts, torn apart is what thy limbs.
"Lift thy swords! And let it dance against their throats!"
The cries and piercing sound of a black arrow sang in the air like a hornet.
" What a gush of euphony!"
How it swells! But ye kept turn a blind eye.
Words shelled in sucrose, senses deaden.
O' grantors of sorrow and demise!
Grant this last wish of mine! Burn this world whole, and so take down too what is left of I!
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