gather togehter for the rough of the
future and sake the hands of the decescenadnce
for we hold not the single stick of branches
but the root of deliverance, the children
inheret from their ancestor
open plam create something that mingle
the present into the ultimate future of
what to take, the day comes the other day
with mourn and sadness tangle every spirit of
existence, hopping that tomorrow past
with out laughter of joy, in the womb of the
angels
persude the guradian of the future for sucking
the breast of a child, notnhing breath than a tomb
of madness of love embeeded inn the essence of
lasting life
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